


In the Midst of Our Springtime of Youth

by besthonestliar, Lets_newtmas_shucks



Category: The Maze Runner Series - James Dashner
Genre: F/M, M/M, Minho hates lightning, Newt hates wall climbing, Rat Man is a Newtmas shipper, Sassy!Minho, Slow Build, Winston is scared of spheres and balls, past Thomasa
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-12-15
Updated: 2016-05-17
Packaged: 2018-03-01 16:13:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 34,785
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2779508
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/besthonestliar/pseuds/besthonestliar, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lets_newtmas_shucks/pseuds/Lets_newtmas_shucks
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thomas enters the world of the Glade Boys' Boarding School, hoping for a fresh start, only to immediately encounter:<br/>1. A school production of Romeo and Juliet<br/>2. The strangest school hierarchy system<br/>3. The spring time of his youth blossoming. </p><p>(boarding school AU)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Rat Man Causes Chaos

**Author's Note:**

> OK, this is my first Newtmas fic. Basically, school plays and boarding school and some cute jealous!Newt and jealous!Thomas.
> 
> Mainly some writing to heal the hole in my heart after page 250. And this time I get to choose what happens
> 
> Creds to my lovely beta: Lets_newtmas_shucks

Newt knows he is gone as soon as he sees the new boy. Thomas is tall and lean with piercing brown eyes that tunnel straight into Newt's soul. If only Newt  _had_ a soul in the first place. 

 

Dinner is just starting when Alby invites Thomas to sit at their table. This is almost unknown at the Glade School - the Glade for short. The new boarders - the Greenies are ignored and most of them stay that way. The boarders, jokingly named the Gladers, are a very close-knit group. They mostly keep to themselves and no one really talks to the day students. Newt's eyes are still wandering around the room, specifically to the Thomas's face. Every now and again he tries to look to away but his eyes automatically dart back to Thomas.

 

"Hey shanks, this is our new Greenie, Thomas," Alby had said. No one protests when Thomas sits down with them. Alby's word is law in the Glade. He's the head boy, after all. Alby is quick-thinking and good at keeping the peace between the Gladers so everyone respects him.

 

The Glader table has a certain seating plan. Alby sits at the end as head boy, with Newt beside him as deputy. The Runners are next. Then the Keepers and their various teams sit together. But Thomas should be at the other end of the table, next to Chuck, a chubby round boy who has skipped a few grades for his high grades. Being next to the Runners is a whole new thing. Alby must  _really_ like Thomas then. Newt throws Alby major shade.

 

"Why's the shucking Greenbean here?" Gally snaps, as he reaches for his fork. His monstrous nose, similar to a deformed potato, quivers ominously. Greenie - Thomas looks slightly offended but says nothing. Thomas is shucking adorable and Newt just wants to kiss him hard.

 

Newt glares angrily at Gally across the table. "Shuck you," he spits. "If Alby invites him here, you should buggin' shut your shank mouth about it."

 

"Slim it, Newt. I'm just curious," Gally says, raising his eyebrows. "What's got you belly-achin' about this anyway?"

 

Newt holds back his barely concealed rage and takes his anger out on his food. For a few minutes, there's silence except for the clattering of knives and forks.

 

Minho can't resist. "Oi, shank," he whispers to Newt. "You're eating your damn food, not murdering it,"

 

Newt turns away from him but Minho can tell that he's trying to hide a grin. "Shut it, slinthead," These words are used affectionately. Minho was one of the first friends Newt made here. When Newt arrived in the Glade, scared and lost, Minho's no-nonsense straight forward manner had put him at ease. Maybe not so much his sarcastic quips. But over time, Newt loved them dearly.

 

Unfortunately, Gally won't drop it. All through the meal, he pokes fun at Thomas, calling him names, an evil glint in his eye as he watches Newt. No one really sticks up for the poor guy, as a Greenie is a Greenie and it's against their 'rules'. Newt occasionally tells Gally to shut his fat mouth, but Gally ignores him. Everyone listens to the  _head_ boy but no ones listens to the  _deputy_ head boy.

 

Newt is ready to strangle Gally. What he would love would be to see a fountain of blood spurt from that fat ugly neck of Gally's. When Gally calls Thomas a shank for the thirteenth time, Thomas appears to lose his rag.

 

"Thomas! My name is _Thomas_!" He snaps, quiet but deadly. Silence settles over the table and Thomas goes back to his dinner.

 

"Good that," snipes Alby and shoots a menacing glare at Gally who shuts up.

The rest of dinner is fairly uneventful.

 

*

 

There's no prep that night as it's the first day back, so they troop to the common room. In Year 11's common room, most Gladers are chatting on the sofas spread across the floor. Chuck is alone on the floor and Thomas is sitting next to him. Newt inwardly groans to himself. Does Thomas have to be so nice? Everyone's pretty fair to Chuck, but he usually sits alone. Seeing Thomas with Chuck just makes him annoyed with himself.

 

Newt keeps watching them, admiring the line of Thomas' jaw and the dip of his top lip and how much he wants to put his own lips-no, he doesn't.

 ~~Yes, he does.~~  
No, he doesn't. Actually there's a large number of things Newt wants to do like kissing, snogging, ~~handjobs~~ , ~~blowjobs~~ and what not.

 

Minho leaves with the other Runners straight after dinner. As Runners, it's their responsibility to take any new Greenies in the lower forms around for a tour, and show them their dorms.

 

No one had thought that Minho, sarcastic, cynical Minho could be the Keeper of the Runners. But he quickly proved himself, much to everyone's amusement. As much as he grumbled about being a Runner, Newt knew he loved it.

 

"Where's that Asian guy gone?" Thomas suddenly says, appearing behind Newt. Newt jumps, startled by his voice. He was really starting to get a thing about Thomas' stupid voice which was a smooth, rolling something-

 

"Hey, are you listening?" Thomas says again, frowning slightly.

 

"Erm that's Minho, he's gone to do his Runner duties," Newt stutters out, embarrassed. "Minho's the Keeper of the Runners."

 

Thomas furrows his eyebrows. "What're Runners and Keepers?" Newt parts his lips slightly, silently contemplating his stupidity. How would Thomas know what they were?

 

"Well, the Runners are the fastest and the strongest and cleverest. Basically, they're the elite. They're on the athletics team. One of their responsibilities is to help any new Greenies in lower forms around after dinner," explains Newt. "A Keeper is like the head of a team. It's just slang in the Glade. You'll pick up on our terms soon enough." He turns around and tries to ignore the thoughts in his head.

 

"Oh and I never caught your name," Thomas blurts, "I'm Thomas, if you didn't know."

 

 _Of course I shucking know_ , Newt wants to scream. _I can't stop thinking about your bloody voice_.

 

"My name's Isaac Newton," he says instead. Thomas lets out a tiny laugh. "But everyone calls me Newt."

 

Thomas looks him straight in the eyes. "Good that," he whispers.

The struggle is real - for Newt at least.

 

*

 

Newt has rotten luck because Thomas is sharing his dorm. He's stays in the Runners' dorm although he's more of an ex-runner. He looks ruefully at his weak leg. It's impossible for Newt to believe that anyone hates wall-climbing even more than he does.

 

At ten, Minho returns with the Runners lately, red in the face.

 

"Hey, shuck-face!" Minho calls affectionately to Newt. Thomas looks rather bemused. "The cheeky little snot-rags were even more snotty tonight." Minho looks over at Thomas who looks completely unsure of where to go. He stands awkwardly in the middle of the room, luggage clutched in his hands.

 

"I suppose the Greenie's going to be taking er-Ben's bed tonight?" Everyone stiffens in the room. No one really mentions Ben when he isn 't around.

 

"I do have a freaking name," snaps Thomas, surprising everyone. He's looking round. "And who's Ben? Why isn't he here?" He 's probably crabby from Gally, thinks Newt darkly.

 

When no one responds, he gets agitated. "We can't tell you," says Minho eventually, looking rather uncomfortable. "Not yet." Thomas' face twists in annoyance and Newt is caught between a urge to glare at Thomas or just tell him. 

 

"Slim it, Thomas," Newt adds, "You'll find out, but now right now, OK?" He doesn't see why Ben is a forbidden subject to Thomas but he still glares pleadingly at Thomas.

 

"Well, can someone at least tell me why I can't know?" insists Thomas.

 

"Look, shuck-face," says Minho exasperatedly. "You hear what we're saying? NOT NOW! You got that loud and clear?"

 

"Who is he?" Thomas shouts, confused and upset. "Maybe I'll leave the dorms and ask the teachers or something!" Minho immediately blocks the exit.

 

"No way, shank," he orders. "No one leaves the dorms after the Runners are back. You can stay in the common room but you can't leave the residence halls." But Minho still hasn't answered Thomas' question.

 

Newt finally speaks up. " _Slim it_ , for god's sake! I'll tell the bloody shank why!" He starts walking towards the bathroom and beckons towards Thomas. "Hurry up, Tommy."

 

The 'Tommy' slips from Newt's before he can help himself. He can feel his cheeks heating up and he yanks Thomas by the sleeve into the showers.

 

"You've got to learn how to keep that bloody mouth of yours shut," Newt says in a clipped voice. He softens his tone. "Look, Ben's a sore subject with everybody, especially Alby and the runners. You're lucky that Alby wasn't here or you'd be really in for it."

 

"Why?" Thomas insists.

 

"Shut your gob, I said. I'm getting to that part." Against what his mind tells him, he sidles closer to Thomas. Thomas is really warm and its rather off-putting. "Ben's a Runner and he-he got into quite a lot of trouble for something. I think his parents sent him to a buggin' boot camp or something and he ain't back yet. Ben was a real good guy and we don't know why he did what he did. He should be back in a week or so though, so you'll change beds soon."

 

He pulls Thomas closer but Thomas steps backwards. Slightly hurt and confused, Newt chooses to ignore this. "So stop shooting off with that bloody mouth of yours," he taps the side of his head. "Think before you speak!"

 

Thomas looks at him nervously but then he smiles and  _wow_  - Newt is blown away. Then he grabs Thomas' hand and takes them back into the dorms. Newt thinks his hand might be on fire. He misses the anguish on Thomas' face.

 

That night, Newt doesn't dream of the Cliff or anything equally unpleasant. Instead, he dreams of searing kisses, hands entwined, loving hugs, all thanks to ~~Thomas~~ a certain Greenie.

 

*

 

It's scaring him how quickly Thomas has gotten to him already and filtered his subconscious. Newt is trying so, so shucking hard not to let it happen but he simply can't help it. It's just something - everything about him.

 

The next day, Thomas is treated to the tradition of waking a Greenie by dumping icy water on their head. Unsurprisingly, he isn't very fond of this tradition. So, Thomas wakes up with an icy thrill. He leaps straight out of bed, cursing and gasping as the shock of cold water washes over him.

 

His brown hair is plastered to his forehead, his pyjamas dripping wet and clinging to his side. Thomas looks around the room for the culprit and lo behold, there is Minho with a bucket in his hand.

 

"Welcome to the Glade, shuck-face," Thomas groans. What he fails to notice is Newt's barely concealed checking out. Newt is trying to look away, he really is but his eyes still pin themselves to Thomas.

 

Only when he's towelling himself dry does he see Newt, whose eyes are combing his body. When their eyes meet, they both turn away immediately. Newt's heart thumps faster.

 

Thomas doesn't know how to feel about it.

 

His lessons are good and all the teachers are quite nice. He's starting to think that all his lessons are going to be great - until English. It's going to be a better school than Stonewall High. Well, anything would be better than Stonewall High. 

 

In English, the teacher is new and people's opinions about him aren't exactly...the best. The English teacher is wearing a pristine white lab coat, along with thin metal-framed glasses. Well, English teachers are always a bit odd.

 

"He looks like a shucking rat," snorts Frypan, who Thomas has come to like despite his odd name. "I wonder where Ms. Yang went. She was alright."

 

Minho has a much more violent reaction. He comes into the classroom a little late and the moment he sees the new English teacher, he guffaws loudly and cusses.

 

"How ya doin' there, Rat Man?" he blurts out. Minho's eyes widen comically and he slaps a hand over his mouth and sits down at once. There's a collective intake of breath.

 

Rat Man gets up and glares icily at Minho. But the name has already stuck. 

 

"My name is Mr. Janson," he addresses the class acidly. "Have some respect for your elders." His eyes linger on Minho, who lets out a muffled half-giggle.

 

"Today, I will be introducing you to the finest of English literature, Shakespeare. It's going to be part of your coursework this year and very much a part of the exams." The class groans and Rat Man's face sours."One of his most famous tragedies..." He pauses and looks around. "Can anyone guess?"

 

People raise their hands in a desperate attempt to salvage the damage Minho wreaked.

 

"Macbeth?"

"Hamlet?"

"Othello?" These are all shot down by Rat Man.

 

Jokingly, Newt puts forward Romeo and Juliet.

 

"Correct," snaps Rat Man. "We will also be producing this play as the school production, collaborating with the Glader Girls' School."

 

"What?" splutters Newt. "When?"

 

Minho stops laughing. Everyone is slack-jawed - Alby, Thomas, Newt, Winston, Zart and Frypan. Ratman smiles evilly.

 

"Participation is not a choice," he smirks, "Everyone will be taking part." There is no doubt every eye staring at Rat Man- _ahem_ Mr. Janson is filled with hatred.

 

The whole class explodes in an uproar.


	2. Minho Likes Victoria's Secret

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The auditions commence. We are introduced to the Glader Girls' School. The Gladers go into town. Minho takes an adventure in the world of women's lingerie.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long wait, I was in London for a few days and I had no wifi.
> 
> besthonestliar x

"Silence!" shouts Rat Man. "As head of the English department, my job was to choose a play to perform." No one is listening to him, Zart and Frypan are having a furious discussion and Minho is doodling pictures of Gally as a pig. Yes, Newt is aware of the fact that Minho still has the mentality of a sexually aware three year old yet despite that they're somehow still friends.

 

"None of you will play Juliet, OK?" Rat Man's eyes swivel to Thomas and his eyes remain fixed there. Thomas looks terrified. "It's going to be fun!"

 

The Gladers stare at him stony-faced. Rat Man does not let this faze him and carries on with his little speech.

 

"Along with play, we can study the work of Shakespeare and perfect our language analysis in detail." Newt rolls his eyes. Bringing education into everything is shucking beautiful.

 

"However, I am a representative from W.C.K.D., you know!" spits Rat Man in a last ditch attempt to get the class under his control. "I will be watching and assessing all of you, on your behaviour and decorum-" Rat Man glares at Minho. "-progress and overall effort."

 

Alby looks worried, as Rat Man could turn out to be a big problem. He should be, thinks Newt grimly. W.C.K.D. was the only school inspector board that always found fault with the Glade. If Rat Man could watch them...no one exactly liked his classes.

 

"I mean..." Rat Man is smirking now, "You wouldn't want to be the reason that the Glade is closed, would you?" Great, Rat Man gets to hold something over their heads now. And they all have to participate in the naff play. Arts scholars are always naff and annoying. Luckily, no art scholars were in the fifth form. Gah.

 

Before Minho can protest, Newt and Alby simultaneously clamp a hand over his mouth. Minho sticks his tongue out immediately and Alby pulls his hand away in disgust.

 

"You've done enough already," hisses Alby furiously. "Now keep your mouth shut or I'll do it for you."

 

"Auditions are this Saturday," barks Rat Man. "And if you don't have a validated reason for not being there then," he pauses, "...I would start counting down your weekends out."

 

*

 

Newt is in the changing rooms for PE. He puts on his kit, then sits down.

"Are you doing PE?" asks Thomas. 

"No," says Newt carefully. "I hurt my shucking leg a while ago and it's still bugging me."

"How did you hurt your leg?" Thomas presses on. Newt exhanges a meaningful glance with Minho: Don't tell him.

"I broke it in a wall-climbing accident." He shrugs casually, as if it's no big thing. "But my stupid leg went shucked and it might be a while till I can walk without a stupid limp."

 

Thomas nods, then he starts unbuttoning his shirt. Newt tries damn hard not to stare at Thomas. There was a certain quality about Thomas that pulled Newt in. He can't help it, it's like a fish trying swim in the sky - impossible.

 

Newt isn't scared of being gay, everyone in the Glade is pretty open-minded but from the way Thomas flinched away from him, Thomas is. Not that he is gay, Newt sharply reminded himself. 

 

"C'mon, Gladers!" shouted Jorge. "We have no time to waste!" As well as being the headmaster of the Glade, Jorge also taught PE. 

 

To this day, no one knew what his surname was, he was just called Jorge. And he had a habit of threatening to cut necessary body parts of your body off when angry. This frequently scared  _everyone_ , seeing as Jorge always carried a shucking Swiss Army knife around with him.

 

Minho smirks at Gally. "I'm going to beat your ass today." Gally shoots him a sideways glare.

 

"Yeah right, shank," Gally mutters back. 

 

Newt sidles to the bench on the side but Jorge calls for him.

 

"Newt, I think you could try the wall today," Jorge says slowly, looking at the expression on Newt's face.

 

Newt doesn't want to. He wants to sit in the corner, not be reminded that everyone is physically superior to him. Especially the Runners, which would only bring back memories of when he was as fast, sometimes faster than all of them.

 

"O-OK." he says eventually because arguing with Jorge is like arguing with a brick wall.

 

Newt lines up next to Jeff at the back of the queue. The climbing wall, usually called the Cliff was a novelty in the Glade. It was only used occasionally and was the source of constant competition. Having the fastest time put you up on a whole new level of awesome. 

 

Two climb at a time. Newt watches as Winston and Zart race up the wall. The Gladers cheer down below and Winston beats Zart by a hair's breadth. Zart doesn't say much but it's obvious that he's annoyed.

 

"Minho and...Thomas next!" yells Jorge. Bit cruel of Jorge to put Thomas with the best person in the year, though. Thomas nervously steps forward and fastens his harness to the rope.

 

"Don't worry shank, I'll go easy on you." chuckles Minho and he gives Thomas a cheery wink. Thomas doesn't smile back, much to Newt's disappointment.

 

Jorge's whistle sounds and the two launch themselves up the wall. Newt screams Minho's name but he also wants Thomas to win. Not that he's going to admit that out loud.

 

He pretends to himself that he isn't watching the way the muscles in Thomas' arms are working. Thomas seems to be rapidly gaining on Minho.

 

That would take Minho down a notch, he smirks to himself. As Keeper of the Runners, Minho had grown pretty shucking arrogant. As in, I-could-rule-the-world arrogant. Minho's fatal flaw would be hubris, definitely.

 

Suddenly, Thomas pushes himself up on the wall and he reaches the top a nano-second before Minho. Silence falls as the Gladers wait for their undefeated champion's reaction. Even Thomas looks nervous, like he is afraid that Minho is going to beat him into the ground. But Minho, being the good sport he is, just beams and shakes Thomas' hand. 

 

"Well played, Greenie, well played indeed," says MInho, loud enough for everyone hear. Ha, Minho always liked to clarify his feelings.

 

Newt wants to laugh and congratulate himself for predicting the future. The powerful Runner beaten by a mere Greenie? Minho gives Newt a sad smile and starts abseiling back down, as does Thomas. They walk over to the back of the line and stand next to Newt.

 

"Aw, Thomas!" cries Minho dramatically. "Way to make me look like a shank in front of everyone." Newt grins.

 

"Well, Minho here thinks too highly of himself anyway," says Newt impishly and pats Thomas on the shoulder. "I'm bloody glad that happened."

 

Shyly, Thomas smiles. And Newt can revel in the fact that he's the cause of it. 

 

When it's Newt's turn, he is against no-one. He feels rather relieves but at the same time, he wants to try and push himself. Although, if he can manage half of what his record time was, he'd be impressed with himself.

 

The shrill sound of the whistle pierces the air and Newt starts climbing. It's good going at first, until he puts his full weight on his injured leg and then he stumbles. 

 

His hand slips from above and Newt's whole body slides down the Cliff. It's an all too painful reminder of-of it. He frantically scrabbles for a handhold, a grip, anything to sto the plastic handholds grazing his skin.

 

"C'mon Newt, don't give up!" cheers Minho. The other Gladers start to join in, shouting words of encouragement. Newt heaves and manages to pull himself up a little. Sweat is trickling down his forehead and his leg is filled with searing pain. Newt wants to shuck it and just climb straight down. Do it for them, he affirms and keeps climbing. He's careful not to put too much weight on his bad leg again. 

 

Near the top, his crummy leg gives out and slips off the wall and he can't get any further. He swears as he tries to put his foot somewhere stable, in both Glade slang and not.

 

"Newt, try going around to the side!" shouts someone. Newt looks around and it's Thomas. Affection fills Newt's veins. Bolstered with new energy to beat the shucking wall, Newt does what Thomas said. 

 

With a final push, he's now sprawled on the top of the Cliff. The Gladers cheer for him but through the whole crowd, the only person Newt can hear is Thomas.

 

 

*

 

Over the next few days, Newt falls in a slow curve, like the line on a time distance graph. Every moment of the day, he wants to be closer to Thomas. The lingering gazes, eye contact,  _argh._ He wonders what it would be like to be able to sweep Thomas in a tight embrace whenever he wants to. It's kind of sad, really.

 

Pretty soon, it's Saturday, the day of the dreaded auditions which are being held in the school hall. Newt tosses and turns in his sleep, drowsy dreams of Grievers chasing him across the stage as he tries to deliver his monologue.

 

Newt wakes up with cold realisation, despite the heat radiating off Thomas' body. Or maybe that's the ice Minho just put down his top. With a frantic tumble, Newt falls off the bed and crashes onto the hard carpeted floor, waking everyone. 

 

"You shank!" squeals Newt, rapidly shaking himself, "I'll bloody kill you!"

 

"Like you could catch me," Minho taunts.

 

"Well, I think our Tommy here could," says Newt. Thomas groans sleepily and looks around. He catches sight of Newt, shirtless, shaking his pyjama top upside down. The tips of Thomas' ears turn red. 

 

*

 

"Who d'ya think is gonna be cast as Romeo?" says Frypan at breakfast. Newt glances at Frypan's plate. Artfully iced Danish pastries lay on his plate, wafting a sweet vanillery smell to Newt. How Frypan gets that while they all get toast never ceases to annoy him. "'Cause it sure as heck ain't me!"

 

Gally shrugs. "It seems our blond princess here could be." Minho giggles and pats Newt on the head. 

 

Alby laughs. "He'd be the best shucking Romeo ever if he was attracted to chicks not dicks!" Newt turns red and looks over at Thomas immediately. Thomas doesn't meet his eye and stares defiantly at the buttered toast on his plate. 

 

Newt's heart falls and he spends the rest of breakfast, quiet and irritable. He doesn't even talk to Minho.

 

Alby counts all the Gladers and looks absolutely horrified when Chuck is missing.

 

"Has anyone seen Chuck?" he bellows at everyone. "I'm sure that Mr. Janson was being serious!"

 

Gally rolls his eyes. "And the fat lump lets us down again,"

 

"Don't talk about Chuck like that!" snaps Thomas. "He's never done anything to YOU!"

 

The room falls silent, the anticipation of a fight hanging heavy in the air. Newt and Alby look at each other and silently decide to step in.

 

"Guys, guys!" yells Alby. Thomas and Gally look ready to kill each other and they ignore him "Just slim it, you stupid shanks!"

 

Newt sighs. Alby's going to be no use if he's on breaking point right now. He steps in between Gally and Newt.

 

"Get out of the way, Newt, if you know what's good for you." hisses Gally through clenched teeth.

 

Newt shoves Gally, hard. "Slim it, Gally!" he commands, "Look, why don't we stop going at it like a bunch of bloody cavemen and find Chuck!" Thomas looks up at him gratefully.

 

"Thanks, Newt." Thomas says, looking at him straight in the eye. "But you don't need to fight my battles for me."

 

Newt rolls his eyes, getting a little frustrated. "Tommy, I wasn't fighting your battle, I was trying my goddamn best to prevent it. Now do you want to find Chuck or not?" 

 

Thomas nods and they walk out the together. They check in the dorms, the dining hall, the showers, the toilets. There is no sign of Chuck anywhere.

 

When they return, Gally is dragging Chuck by the ear and Chuck is squealing like a stuck pig.

 

"Gally, let go of Chuck," orders Newt. Gally's face contorts hideously and he drops Chuck. Thomas runs over to him.

 

"Chuck, are you OK?" says Thomas quickly. 

 

"Of course the shuck-face is," spits Gally with rage. "He was pigging out in the kitchens!"

 

Alby looks at Chuck sternly. "Is this true?" Chuck shakes his head. Gally snorts.

 

"It's not like that!" cries Chuck, looking extremely fearful. Nearly all eyes are on him. "My mum is one of the dinner ladies. That's the only reason I can afford to come to the Glade. I was just visiting her." 

 

After this, everyone returns to their chatter and Alby lets Chuck off the hook. He's only a kid, after all.

 

In the Great Hall, there's a crowd of girls huddled together. A stage has been set up and chairs in neat rows. Rat Man is sitting next to the stage, with a pen and clipboard and several copies of Romeo and Juliet. 

 

"Girls on the left-hand side and boys on the right please," Rat Man booms through the microphone. Everyone sits down immediately. A blonde woman sits next to Rat Man. She looks rather posh and haughty - very much like Rat Man. 

 

"When I call your name," announces the woman in a crisp American accent, "Please come up to the stage where you will perform twice. One is with the use of a script, the other is improvisation. We will hand out the scripts and what we want you to improvise and give you ten minutes of preparation."

 

Newt is sitting next to Minho and Thomas. Thomas suddenly waves at someone from the crowd of girls. Newt's heart sinks further, it's gonna klunk right out his pants.

 

A tall brown-haired girl rushes over and Thomas a hug that nearly seems to knock him off his feet. Newt clenches his fists and tries to ignore it.

 

"Hey guys," exclaims Thomas. Now he has his arm around the girl and Newt wants to tear out his own hair. He's not that far past the gone yet though. "This is Teresa."

 

Thomas doesn't specify further so Newt takes it upon himself. "How did you guys get to know each other?" Teresa beams at him and Newt wants to hate her so badly, but he can't bring himself too. No wonder Thomas would want to go out with her. It feels like he's slowly being stung by Grievers, over and over.

 

"Oh, our parents were friends," says Teresa, "We also went to the same primary school." Her voice is sort of dry and rough like sandpaper.

 

"We even dated for a while before we broke up when I found out that Thomas had a taste for-" Thomas stands on Teresa's foot before she can finish the sentence. She rolls her eyes and sighs.

 

Newt's heart lightens a bit at the fact they're not dating but they're exes and best friends! How can he bloody compete against that?

 

The script comes around and Newt picks it up. It's the part where Juliet and Romeo meet they exchange words and they kiss. Newt highly doubts he will want to kiss any of the girls. Maybe I'll get paired with Thomas, he thinks stupidly. The improvisation scene is when Tybalt kills Mercutio and Romeo kills him in a fit of rage. 

Rat Man reaches for the microphone and the hall falls silent. "First up, Teresa Agnes and Aris Jones." 

 

Teresa winks at them and leaves. 

 

"Who the shuck is Aris?" Thomas whispers into Newt's ear. He can feel Thomas' breath against his neck and he shivers slightly. 

 

"I have no shucking clue but he definitely isn't from the Glade." Newt signals to Alby and mouths 'Who is Aris?'. Alby replies with 'He just got here today, in the girls' school.' Newt doesn't even bother asking.

 

Now Teresa and Aris are both on stage, Newt sits back. Teresa wanders on first and mills around for a bit, before shooting Aris a death glare.

 

"She just went really out of character," giggles Thomas. It may or may not be one of the cutest things Newt has seen.

 

Aris stumbles on stage, looking awestruck. He's doing OK, thinks Newt. 

 

"If I profane with my unworthiest hand..." Aris drones and it is clear he has no enthusiasm for the works of Shakespeare. 

 

"-palm to palm is holy palmers' kiss." says Teresa. She looks like she's trying not to laugh. 

 

"Then move not , while my prayers' effect I take." finishes Aris and he air-kisses Teresa on the lips.

 

Rat Man bellows for the improvisation scene. 

 

Aris takes on Tybalt and stabs the air while Teresa lets out a miserable wail. She holds an invisible body in her arms. 

 

"Mercutio! You're gonna live, we can get you to the hospital in time." Teresa supports the invisible body and starts walking away. She pretends to stumble and shrieks.

 

"I'LL KILL YOU!" she screams and tears towards Aris who looks extremely bewildered. "I'll make you pay for what you did!" She runs Aris through with a invisible sword.

 

"Die, Capulet!" Aris sinks to his knees, coughs and then is still. The crowd cheers.

 

Newt gets the pleasure of watching everybody go through the auditions. Gally is a total shank and messes up royally. Alby is pretty good but his voice is flat.

 

And, Minho? He's a class of his own. Minho refuses to even try and get the part of Romeo and definitely messes up his audition in the most spectacular way possible.

 

He walks onto stage, rolling his hips and flips his hair. Newt hears several girls giggle in the audience. 

 

Through the whole audition, Minho acts like a prostitute and wiggles his hips nearly all the time. The girl on stage with him looks rather flustered.

 

"Isaac Newton and...Harriet Woods!" calls Rat Man. Everyone in Newt's row laughs and shove him forward. 

 

He's not particularly nervous, after all, acting isn't very scary. The girl, Harriet looks rather scary and he climbs onstage.

 

"If I profane with my unworthiest hand..." The lines flow easily from his lips and Newt nearly smirks. He's too good. He looks at the crowd and Thomas gives him a thumbs up. That alone makes his day.

 

The scene finishes and Harriet decides to be Romeo. When she lunges at him, he lets out a hair-raising scream and dies, slowly and dramatically. The audience burst into applause.

 

Newt sits back down, satisfied. "Thomas O' Brien and...Brenda Larkson!" Thomas gives a cheeky grin and walks towards the stage.

 

Brenda is fairly tall, with wavy brown hair and her expression is hard. But as soon as Thomas starts spouting Shakespeare, she turns into a soft, simpering girl, perfect for Juliet. It's clear that she's amazing at acting.

 

Minho raises his eyebrows and nods at him - even Minho is impressed. At the end, Brenda leans into Thomas and kisses him, right on the lips.

 

Newt is still and he wants to leap onto the stage and throttle the life out of Brenda for touching his Tommy. Thomas, on the other hand looks rather dreamy and waves goodbye to Brenda slowly.

 

Alby claps Thomas on the back and laughs. "Never knew you were such a ladies' man, Thomas!" Thomas just blushes and doesn't say anything. He's also avoiding Newt's eye and that hurts. The image of Thomas and Brenda - Trenda'd kiss plagues him.

 

After lunch, they head into town. The town around the Glade is Oxford and it's quite nice there.

 

Except one thing: "Who the shuck are they?" yelps Thomas.

 

"We call them Grievers," says Newt. "They're the druggy gang and no one knows what they're on, except it's called the Sting. Never get stung."

 

"Why?"

 

"The last time someone got Stung, they went insane." He doesn't divulge any more ad for once Thomas stops poking his nose in.

 

The Grievers are grotesque creatures. They hardly look human at all, their faces are squashed and twisted, almost turning inside out. The Grievers have slimy, oily skin, full of festering sores and pus-filled pimples. They walk hunched as if they are in pain and they offer syringes of the Sting to passerbys. It makes Newt shudder to even think about it.

 

One of the Grievers scratch at their face and a cluster of pustules burst, causing thick yellowish pus to flow out.

 

All the Gladers with Newt turn away and gag. Newt coughs and retches into the gutter. After his last experience with a Griever, he's kind of delicate around them.

 

They venture into the shops and Newt quickly forgets about the Grievers. Minho in particular has fun in Victoria's Secret as he selects the wispiest, laciest lingerie and strolls casually to the changing room. The changing room assistant gapes at him. Newt has tears of laughter streaming down his face as Minho struts out the changing room with a M-sized bra. M for Minho, Newt supposes.

 

Next to him, Thomas goes slightly red. "Is this normal for Minho?"

 

Newt snorts at Minho's pathetic twerking attempt then turns to Thomas. "Yes, Minho's been like this since day one." Abruptly, everyone starts twerking around them except him and Thomas. 

 

"Oi, Newtmas!" shouts Minho. "Come join the fun!" They are promptly kicked out of Victoria's Secret.

 

*

 

At the sweet shop, Gally buys some LoveHearts and yeah, he's being teased.

 

"Got the hots for someone, ay?" cries Jeff and he messes up Gally's hair. 

 

"Shuck off," mumbles Gally. "I like these, OK?"

 

"Yeah, you'd like them to be for someone else!" teases Zart. 

 

Newt sighs and keeps walking.

 

*

 

Back in the Glade, they settle down for dinner. Jorge calls Alby away and he's still not there so Newt instills order.

 

"OK, everyone, glad we all made it to the auditions," There's a brief pause. "First and foremost, I think we should thank Minho for entertaining us the whole day." Everyone cheers and applauds Minho who winks and wiggles his eyebrows.

 

Newt turns to Thomas, smirking. "And how do you like the Glade, Greenie?" All heads turn to the Greenie in question, who looks slightly intimidated.

 

"I think I'll have the best shucking time of my life here!" declares Thomas and everyone cheers again. Newt affectionately gives Thomas a side-hug. You know, that one where you loop one arm around them and squeeze them.

 

It's not over-friendly is it? Newt keeps his arm around until Thomas shakes it off, looking a little disheveled. 

 

"Grievers are disgusting shucks, aren't they?" Alby asks Thomas. Thomas swallows his food and nods.

 

"Yeah, where did they even come from? Why hasn't anyone arrested them or something?" he says.

 

Minho chews thoughtfully. "Ran into one of them in my first year. Nearly got stung. They weren't so nice back them." Newt laughs at the memory.

 

"One of them buggers walked straight up to Minho and tried to ram a bloody syringe into his arm!" Minho pouts.

 

"It was scary!" he protests, "We were all Greenies back then."

 

"I can't ever imagine you as a Greenie," snorts Thomas, "I just assumed you were always this bloody cocky." Minho elbows him and Newt laughs. That's all he ever seems to do around Thomas.

 

"Bloody's MY word!" he shouts and he receives an angry look from the teachers.

 

Dinner passes eventfully and they're all in high spirits, laughing on the way to the common rooms. 

 

Suddenly, Newt hears footsteps. Alby appears to as well. "Guys, hold on," he tells the rest of the Gladers. "There's someone in there."

 

Minho pushes open the door and Newt looks and his mouth drops.

 

It's Ben and he looks very, very different.


	3. Thomas is a Metaphorical Sponge Cake

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Minho shows his true colours.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long wait, my mum kept trying to confiscate my phone.

Chapter 3

  


Newt reels backwards in shock and stifles a gasp. Ben looks absolutely awful.

  


His eyes are sunken into his skin and painful ulcers appear to be decorating his face. His movement is jerky and uncontrolled as if he might double over any second.

  


"Hey guys," croaks Ben. His voice is dry and harsh, the complete opposite of what it was before. "Did you miss me?" There's an awkward pause as people take in Ben's new appearance. 

  


The tense atmosphere quickly dissolves when Minho steps forwards and hugs Ben. 

  


"Welcome back, my favourite shank!" he shrieks and envelopes Ben in a hug once more. Some people, mainly the runners, come up to Ben and talk so Newt takes this as his cue to leave. Everyone resumes their normal night-time activities.

  


Thomas comes up to Newt on the small couch for two. Newt discovers he isn't very patient when it comes to Thomas being around him. He reaches out and yanks Thomas'.wrist, pulling him onto the sofa - right on top of Newt.

  


It's almost funny how Thomas teacts, his mouth curves into an 'O' of shock and he quickly scrambles off Newt. Newt just relishes the brief skin-on-skin contact which he knows is going to somehow infiltrate his dreams.

  


Thomas opens his mouth to speak but before he can, Minho walks over and pulls Thomas upwards amicably. Newt glares at Minho in annoyance.

  


"What," whines Newt, "is so important that you had to pull poor Tommy off the couch?"

  


Minho gazes at him innocently with big cow eyes but Newt knows better. "I need to talk to you," Minho lisps, in a ghastly parody of a little girl. Thomas sinks back down into the pillows. "Alone."

  


Thomas sighs then gets up and fixes wounded eyes on Newt. Newt smiles sympathetically. 

  


"I'll call you over after this bloody shank tells me whatever klunk he's going to spew." Thomas nods briefly and walks over to Alby and Chuck.

  


Minho plonks himself cheerfully on Newt's lap, only to be shoved off. "So what was it that you wanted to tell me?"

  


"Newt," he begins in a slow, solemn voice. "I love you." Newt snorts. 

  


"No, really," Minho presses on, his face serious. Newt starts panicking immediately. Minho seemed sober! Had Gally slipped him some moonshine at dinner or something?

  


For a good ten seconds, Newt stares blankly at Minho. Minho looks away and bursts out laughing. 

  


"Just messing with you shuck head," he wheezes out in between laughs. "I might be into dicks but it's never gonna be your d-"

  


"Minho!" hisses Newt. "I am going to rip your bloody head of your shoulders when it becomes legal!"

  


"Then I guess this perfect head will stay on these perfect shoulders with perfect biceps forever." 

  


"Bloody hell, Minho," says Newt, exasperated. "Remind me why I'm even your friend again?"

  


"Aw," simpers Minho and he grabs Newt in a tight hug. "Because you love me, you dumb shuck-face!"

  


"Get off!" splutters Newt, but he's laughing as well. "What did you actually want to tell me?"

  


Minho gestures towards Thomas. "I'd say the new greenbean is pretty fit right?" Newt gulps.

  


"Maybe," he says carefully. "Is that what you think?"

  


Minho giggles. "Tell me you don't want to take a bit out of that fine, fine booty."

  


"I don't want to take a bite of that fine, fine booty," replies Newt, with a completely straight face. "What's your point?"

  


"So you wouldn't mind if I tried to get our little Tommy boy to climb aboard the Minho train?" Newt hears alarm bells go off in his head. He's my Tommy, the voice in his head protests. Part of Newt wants to smack Minho silly just for calling Thomas Tommy.

  


Only he's allowed to do that.

  


"What exactly do you mean by-" Minho cuts him off.

  


"Get him to realise that's he's attracted to the package down below a man's waist, duh!" says Minho. "I bet I could get Thomas begging real loud for a nice big dick straight up his tight a-" 

  


"MINHO!" bellows Newt, red-faced. "Please do not ever go into that much detail again!" Minho glances dolefully at Newt as if to say 'You're no fun'.

  


"Although preferably it would be my dick in his butt." muses Minho thoughtfully. He lookd at Newt. "You absolutely, positively, affirmatively sure you wouldn't mind?"

  


Newt can't hold it in any longer. The thought of Minho shucking Thomas up the butt is enough to make him want to have his memory erased. Maybe he could ask WCKD nicely.

  


"OK," he admits reluctantly. "I mind because I like Tommy as well."

  


"Ha!" screams Minho at the top of his voice. He leaps onto his feet and fist pumps. Everyone stares. "I shucking knew that you wanted to shuck that ass! I. Am. Flawless!" 

  


Newt groans and pulls Minho back down. Minho lands with a thump, knocking cushions onto the floor. Alby walks over to them and Thomas and Chuck follow.

  


"What's got you so riled up?" chuckles Alby. Minho smiles devilishly.

  


"Newtie told me who he's rather fond of," he reveals and Minho actually has the audacity to smirk. Chuck beams, but Thomas looks a little dumbfounded and stares at Newt heavily.

  


Newt wishes he wouldn't sometimes. For one, it's extremely off-putting and to be honest? It's majorly turning him on.

  


"Aw, come on Minho, tell me!" squeals Chuck. "I won't tell a soul."

  


Thomas looks affectionately towards Chuck. "I think that's Newt's choice to make, not Minho's." 

  


After a while, Minho goes over to Ben and Gally, while Thomas sits back down next to Newt. Alby and Chuck disperse.

  


It's not that Alby and Newt aren't good friends, it's just that Alby has so many other friends and they don't hang out that often. Plus, it looks like Alby feels a little more than friends when it comes to a ugly squished-nosed person. Newt doesn't even want to try and understand.

  


They sit in silence but all the while, Thomas is glaring heatedly at Minho.

  


* 

  


"Newt, I love you," Minho says and Thomas' heart turns to ice.

  


Thomas watches Newt, trying to contain the unmistakeable surge of pain when Minho took his place. He talks to Chuck, but his eyes are still fixed on Newt and Minho.

  


Snap out it, you freak, he angrily chides himself. Just because Newt is gay doesn't mean he'll ever like someone like you.

  


His mind delivers harsh, lancing words, constructed to stop himself ever noticing anybody apart from girls. I don't like boy, is what he tells himself daily, especially when Thomas looks at Newt.

  


No, he doesn't. He doesn't like Newt more than friends. No. Never.

  


Across the room, Newt's face is inches apart from Minho. Minho laughs and Newt whacks him. 

  


Thomas groans and looks away. 

  


"Did you even listen to anything I just said...shank?" snips Chuck. He still sounds slightly out of place using Glader slang. Now Minho's hugging Newt.

  


Too close. They're too close! Thomas tenses and Chuck follows his line of vision.

  


"Why are you looking at Newt and Minho?" asks Chuck, all eyelashes and innocence. And the boy is truly as innocent as a newborn baby. 

  


I guess he hasn't been around Minho a lot, thinks Thomas darkly. Newt's normally pale skin starts colouring and Minho slings an arm around him. Thomas wants to rip Minho's arm off.

  


"Thomaas!" Chuck calls.

  


"Er, nothing," he stammers hastily. "Keep going."

  


Suddenly Minho stands up on the couch, looking triumphant. 

  


"Ha!" he cries. "I shucking knew you wanted to shuck that ass. I. Am. Flawless!" Is he referring to himself? Thomas' heart falls as Newt pulls Minho down and he lands in a giggling heap. 

  


That's when Thomas can't take it anymore and walks over to them. What's even worse is that this shouldn't be affecting him anyway.

  


* 

  


The bell rings for preparation for bed and Newt gets up, beckoning towards Thomas. 

  


They walk into the showers and Newt lets the water roll down him. He nearly squawks when the tenperature drops from a scalding hot to bone-chilling cold. It got rid of his boner, to say the least, so he's grateful.

  


He clambers out with a towel around his waist, to see Thomas walking up to him. Newt swallows nervously. Thomas is also just in a towel and they're standing pretty close together. His boner reawakens.

  


"Hey, where am I going to sleep?" asks Thomas, shakng his wet hair. "I mean, because Ben's back and all."  

  


Oh my god, oh my god, thinks Newt. His eyes are everywhere but Thomas' face. There's a trail of hair from Thomas' navel, leading into the towel. Newt forces himself to look up.

  


"Er, I'm not sure," he mumblss at first. "You'll probably be transferred at some point, but for now..."

  


Thomas gazes into his eyes and Newt's stomach rolls like clothes in a washing machine. He doesn't notice his nils are digging into his palms.

  


"I guess you could just share a bed if you can't be bothered to move to a empty bed somewhere else today." It's sad how his poor sellotaped heart perks up.

  


"Yeah, but who would share with me?" says Thomas, as if he truly believes he is that repulsive.

  


As if, scoffs Newt. 

  


"I wouldn't mind," shrugs Newt casually, but his bloody heart is thumping. Thomas actually looks surprised.

  


"Oh, OK," he says after a pause. "I guess that's settled."

  


*

  


In the Runner's dorm, Newt sleeps on the bunk below Minho because he can't climb up the ladder with his leg very well. It's a shame really, he'd love the top bunk.

  


Thomas walks in and Minho beams evilly. 

  


"You have sleeping arrangements, shank?" he asks Thomas. Thomas colours slightly and nods.

  


"I-I decided that Newt and I are gonna share a bed," Thomas explains nervously. He wonders if Minho would be jealous of that. "It's totally platonic of course, I hope you don't mind."

  


"Why would I mind?" says Minho, confused. Absolutely mystified, Thomas gets into Newt's bunk.

  


"Oi, budge up!" demands Newt and Newt climbs in, blissfully aware of the skin-on-skin contant they're going to have. It sounds creepy but...OK. Newt is creepy about Thomas.

  


Ben walks in and he still looks disgusting to Newt. He doesn't say this to Minho, but from Thomas' expression, Tommy is thinking the same thing.

  


"You don't have to share because of me," Ben rasps. His eyes zoom in on Thomas and Newt feels a surge of protectiveness. Something flickers in Ben's eyes but he doesn't say anything.

  


"Oh it's fine," Newt chimes. God forbid anyone sharing with Ben. 

  


The lights are switched off and only then does Newt realise how close they actually are. Newt usually sleeps on his side and he can feel Thomas' back pressed up against his torso. The boy is shaking.

  


"God, Tommy," hisses Newt. "Are you cold?" 

  


"No," Thomas replies. Liar.

  


"Yes you are, you're shaking the whole bed." Newt says, then he has a brilliant idea. "C'mere." He puts his arms around Thomas' chest and pulls Thomas closer to him. 

  


At once, Thomas tenses and but he stops shaking. "Newt, what are you doing?"

  


Newt hugs Thomas tighter to his chest. "You were shaking and I couldn't sleep. Relax, you're really stiff." He hears Minho roll over.

  


"Are you guys shucking?" he asks. "Sure sounds like it."

  


"Shut up, you shank," whispers Newt sleepily. His face is near the crook of Thomas' neck and he can smell Thomas. 

  


This puts him to sleep pretty fast. 

  


Thomas doesn't sleep so easily. After a while, he hears Newt's breathing turn slow and even and Minho's snores fill the room. Occasionally, someone mumbles or farts.

  


Thomas is all too aware of Newt's warm breath ghosting down his neck, Newt's arms looped around him and now - oh klunk.

  


Newt mumbles and he crosses his leg over Thomas', entwining them. They're pressed together like sardines in a tin and it's nice.

  


It isn't nice, he reprimands himself. It's just friends snuggling together in bed. His face grows warm as Newt shifts ever so slightly so N-Newt's er, groin is rather close.

  


He's started mumbling again, but this time the words are clear.

  


"Tommy," Newt slurs. "My Tommy."

  


*

  


The next day, Newt wakes blearily and hears the snap of a camera. George is taking a picture of him - wait, what?

  


He moves and remembers that Thomas is in his bed. Newt is nearly dry-humping Tommy. His...down there is pressed into Thomas's ass. I really do want to take a bite out of that ass, thinks Newt, echoing Minho's words.

  


"Rise and shine, Tommy," Newt mutters and abruptly realises his lips are pressed to Thomas's neck. Thomas shivers and he opens one eye.

  


"Well, isn't this a compromising position?" says Minho, "You guys bring a new definition to snuggling."

  


Newt deigns to reply, so Thomas does. "Go shuck yourself, Minho."

  


*

  


In English, Rat Man looks rather annoyed. "I have your parts," he announces grumpily. "And congratulations to our Romeo: Thomas."

  


Thomas gasps and grins sheepishly. Rat Man gives them all a surly look and sticks the cast onto the whiteboard.

  


Escalus (Prince of Verona): Alby

Mercutio: Minho

The County Paris: Theo

  


Montague: Winston

  


Lady Montague: Beth

Romeo: Thomas

Benvolio: Newt

Abram: Jeff

Balthasar: Clint

  


Capulet: Aris

  


Lady Capulet: Rachel

Juliet: Brenda

Cousin Capulet: Sonya

Tybalt: Gally

Nurse: Teresa

Peter: Jack 

Sampson: Minho

Gregory: Alby

  


Friar Lawrence: Chuck

Friar John: Frankie 

An Apothecary: Zart

Three Musicians: Jackson, Billy, George

The Chorus: Harriet

  


Citizens of Verona, masquers, pages, servants and watchmen will be cast later.

  


The Gladers crowd around the paper, jostling each other to find their names. 

  


"Hey, I'm Mercutio and Sampson!" cries Minho. "Is there a mistake?"

  


"No," snaps Rat Man. "I don't make mistakes. You have two parts." Newt finds his name and sees that he's Benvolio. It's not a major part but it's OK. As he expected, Brenda is Juliet. His mood drops. Now he has weeks of rehearsals where Thomas will have to be 'love' Brenda and watch them kiss and hold hands. Newt grits his teeth.

  


Rat Man sees him looking upset. "Personally, I think you would've been a good Juliet. We had a hard time finding a good part to suit your personality. I would've still cast you as Juliet." Newt smirks to himself. Maybe that's why Rat Man looks so disgruntled today.

  


"I knew that Brenda shuck was gonna be Juliet," says Minho. His eyes land on Newt. "C'mon shank, cheer up. At least you're the one getting some action at night."

  


Newt's face is redder than a postbox."Minho!"

  


If Newt stops thinking about Thomas (not that he ever does), the Ben problem always comes to mind. The whole boot camp subject is still rather raw with Ben it seems.

  


He's tried talking to Ben but Ben just goes pale and doesn't reply. Ben also seems to hate Thomas a lot. He avoids him and always glares at him. 

  


Newt doesn't understand how anyone could ever hate Thomas. He's totally not biased. 

  


In the common room, Newt decides to sit with Ben but when he sees Ben's pallid, sore-encrusted face staring woefully at him, he slowly retreats.

  


Minho pulls Newt onto his lap and despite Newt's protests, doesn't let go. "I'm really bored," Minho says slowly, looking purposefully at Newt. This is a code for mucking around.

  


It's not that they would go out - ew. But that one time, they got all cranked up on Gally's weird drink and started talking about first kisses.

  


"It should be with someone you care about," Newt had said soppily and turned to Minho. They both sensed an underlying agreement there and they had kissed, drunk as skunks.

  


The next morning involved swearing and wide eyes as Newt and Minho stared at each other in horror. From then on, they really had no boundaries. Casual kisses and bored kisses had been exchanged but they were never big deals.

  


Minho's in a bored kiss mood. Or kissing mood. "Fine," says Newt presently. He's got some really pent-up emotions from Thomas and a severe case of blue balls. "Maybe I'll pretend you're Tommy."

  


"What? I'm not good enough for you?" cries Minho in mock horror.

  


"A bloody shank like you?" Newt pauses and taps his chin. "Of course not." Minho drags him to their dorm and they climb onto Newt's bed.

  


"I can never do this without some of Gally's moonshine," murmurs Newt and he takes a bottle out of Gally's stash and pops it open. He takes a noisy slurp and passes the bottle to Minho.

  


Soon, they're so drunk they have no idea what's happening and Newt grabs Minho roughly.  

"Tommy," he whispers and he pulls Minho in. They're an absolute mess and all Newt feels is awkward fumbling and sloppy kisses. Something creaks but Newt ignores it and they carry on.

  


But it works and they both fall asleep, content.

  


*

  


Thomas hears Minho say to Newt 'I'm really bored' in a suggestively annoying tone and his blood boils in his veins. When Newt and Minho leave the room hand in hand, he follows quietly. 

  


He hears the opening of a door and a bottle being opened. More giggling. Thomas pushes open the door to be greeted with the sight of Newt's lips on Minho's. He immediately retreats and walks back to the common room. 

  


Why does this hurt? Why do I even care? Thomas clenches his fists stops walking. He pits his head against the wall and breathes slowly. With each breath, his head feels slightly clearer and he gradually calms down. 

  


"Newt..." he whispers to the floor. The floor doesn't respond. "What is it with Newt and I?" Thomas knows the answer deep down, but he refuses to acknowledge it. He doesn't like Newt that way.

  


With angry strides, Thomas walks straight over to Alby, who is talking with some of the Keepers.

  


"Are Minho and Newt...dating?" he asks precariously. Alby laughs, a deep, vibrating sound and keeps laughing for a while. Some of the other Keepers laugh along with him.

  


"Dating?" snorts Alby, "Are you on the Sting or something?" At that, Ben stiffens. No one seems to notice it, except Thomas. Maybe he'll ask Newt about it later. His heart clenches again.

  


"Er...no," says Thomas. "Could I talk to you in private?" Frypan wolf-whistles and Chuck does as well. Alby gives them the middle finger and goes into the corner with Thomas.

  


"I saw them having a snog," deadpans Thomas. Alby chortles.

  


"They were probably drunk then," he says, as a way of explanation. "Minho and Newt sometimes kiss when they're drunk."

  


He pinpoints Thomas with a suspicious glare. "Do you like one of them?" Thomas almost gasps, how can Alby just be so...casual about this? In his old school...never mind. Thomas feels his cheeks flush.

  


"No!" he manages at last, a little panicky. "Straight." Alby shrugs.

  


"Wouldn't hold it against you if you were gay, y'know," says Alby. "The Glade isn't really a 'no homo' place." Thomas swallows and hastily makes an exit.

  


At least they're not dating...maybe, thinks Thomas. He feels a lot better and his good spirits continue till lights out. 

  


He shoves Minho, who is asleep, good-naturedly off Newt's bed. Fine, maybe he's a tiny bit rougher than usual but...nothing.

  


Newt opens his eyes and stares at Thomas, his face flushing. Stupid, stupid. Had Thomas seen them kissing? 

  


No, that's just preposterous. Newt pulls Thomas under the covers and instantly wraps his arms around him. To his surprise, Thomas relaxes into his grip. He smiles silently in the dark and drifts off.

  


*

  


The next day, Thomas wakes to feel HIS arms around Newt, rather than the opposite way around. He can tell it isn't time to get up though so he remains still. Newt snores softly but he doesn't say Thomas' name again.

  


A few moments later, Newt stirs.

  


"Tommy?" Newt wakes up and realises that Thomas is hugging him. "Good mornin'." Newt's hair is similar to a bird's nest and probably has the same texture, to be honest. Newt is aware of how ugly he looks and the intensity of Thomas' eyes is making his stomach do flips.

  


Shuck me, thinks Newt, when Thomas stretches and yawns. His shirt slips up, showing a sliver of smooth skin. 

  


Then he tastes Gally's drink in the back of his throat and bites back a gag. The foggy memories of him and Minho surface.

  


Klunk. Oh klunk. Why? Newt wrinkles his nose and groans out loud.

  


"I have a slight hangover," he says to Thomas. Thomas remains unsympathetic, which jarrs Newt's feelings.

  


"Yeah and you were getting all frisky with Minho," replies Thomas with no emotion. 

  


"Please don't remind me," pleads Newt. The last thing he needs is Minho teasing him about the 'Tommy'. 

  


"So are you guys like, dating or what?" 

  


"Well, we kinda-" Before Newt can finish his bloody sentence, the bell rings and Minho swears above them. Newt get up and looks for his shirt.

  


At breakfast, Minho gives him a 'ahem' look, meaning that they're going to talk about this at some point. Thomas notices and stares sullenly at his toast. Newt glances at Thomas.

  


"What's the matter?" he says. "You look pretty shucked." Thomas looks startled.

  


"I-you-nothing," he stutters, "Just tired."

  


"I'm so bloody sorry. Was it me?" Newt asks, carefully controlling the worry in his tone.

  


Yes it was you! Thomas thinks angrily. You and that shucking shank Minho. 

  


They have Food Tech. that morning and when Thomas puts his lumpy but runny sponge cake batter into the oven, he looks dismally at Newt's even, yellow batter. Then even more dismally at Frypan's carefully arranged apple tart. Frypan shines in the kitchen and the teacher has already let him onto higher levels.

  


He washes up and occasionally checks the oven. His sponge is not rising at all, it's turning black, but it's obviously not done. How the shuck does this even happen?

  


Newt's sponge is perfect and golden and shucking beautiful - just like Newt. Thomas grits his teeth and scrubs the mixing bowl with extra vigour. He's like his sponge, not turning black of course, but a failure.

  


"Thomas?" comes a voice. Thomas whirls around. It's Ben and his lips are curled upwards in a grimace of a smile. "Can I talk to you quickly outside?"

  


Thomas feels uneasy but there's ten minutes till marking and the teacher's gone to talk to the technician. What harm could there be?

  


He walks out the classroom with Ben and tells Frypan to take out his sponge for him, not that he'll ever eat it. He might as well let it charr into oblivion. 

  


Ben doesn't say anything till they're nearly in the forest area of the Glade and quite far from the greenhouses. It'll probably take him around five minutes to walk back.

  


"So, what did you want to s-" Before he can finish Ben's demanour changes. His face has the crazed expression of a lunatic.

  


"It's...all...your...fault," screams Ben. Thomas takes a step back. "You...did...this...to-" Ben leaps forwards and pushes Thomas down to the floor. Thomas' head is ringing from the glancing blow. 

  


"ADMIT IT!" shrieks Ben hysterically. "I KNOW IT WAS YOU! THEY TOLD ME!" While he says this, he's punching Thomas.

  


"I'm going to KILL YOU!" roars Ben and his hands reach for Thomas' neck. One look at Ben and Thomas knows Ben isn't joking. Saliva is running down Ben's neck and Thomas can't breathe. 

  


He manages to push Ben's hands off his neck but now he's gasping for breath, weak and woozy. Thomas hears Ben's teeth snapping and yells out in pain as Ben bites his cheek ferociously, almost as if he's trying to tear Thomas' face off.

  


"HELP!" Thomas screams desperately. "Somebody please help me!" With a sudden surge of strength, Thomas shoves Ben off and runs as fast as he can.

  


Luckily, he's quite good but Ben is a shucking Runner. He stumbles slightly as he feels a searing pain in his ankle but he carries on.

  


"HELP!" he shouts. Ben's gaining on him - his ankle is slowing him down. 

  


He reaches the greenhouses and looks furticely for someone, anyone, he'd even settle for shucking Gally. Ben's about to grab him when-CLANG.

  


Ben keels over and Thomas looks into the grim eyes of Newt.

  


"I heard you so I followed you," explains Newt, a blush steadily rising to his cheeks. "I don't think Ben is particularly stable. I was right."

  


Thomas looks at Ben. There's a gash on the side of hid head from the hoe Newt whacked him with. Blood is matting his hair but Ben is unconcscious.

  


"Thomas," says Newt, "Can you run back and get the others for me? My leg, you see, I can't do it." 

  


Thomas nods and when he gets to the kitchen, he's panting hard. 

  


"Minho!" he gasps. "It's Ben, Newt told me to get the Keepers." Minho nods immediately and they walk to the greenhouses with Zart, Winston, Clint, Gally, a grumbling Frypan and Alby.

  


Thomas explains what happened. When he's finished, Gally rounds on him.

  


"I told you guys the new greenie was trouble!" snarls Gally. "It's his fault!"

  


"Shut your mouth, Gally," commands Alby in a stern tone. "Innocent till proven guilty, OK?"

  


At the greenhouses, Newt is waiting there, eyes full of concern.

  


"Lift up his shirt," says Newt hoarsely, his voice a little more than a whisper. 

  


Minho kneels down and checks. He immeidately swears. Green rope-like veins are running across Ben's torso, pulsing gently. 

  


Alby moves to the front and swears as well. "He's been taking the Sting."


	4. The Library is a Code for Making Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ben is a problem they are forced to discuss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for sooo long without an update - busy with school and literally having no time due to Asian parents sucks. 
> 
> Somehow I managed to squeeze out 6k of words though...so I hope you like it?

Chapter 4

"Wait, the Sting? Isn't that the Griever drug?" Thomas stares at the grotesque veins on Ben. It seemed that the Sting had a different effect on Ben compared to the Grievers.

"I think we should take Ben to the infirmary for now and put him in the isolation room, and then we go to the head." says Frypan. "And what about the lesson?"

They return to the kitchen and Mr. Matfis immediately starts shouting at all of them, going on about how being a Keeper didn't make you king until Minho and Alby walk in, carrying Ben's limp body. Mr. Matfis finally shuts his shucking mouth.

"Sir, may we go to the head?" The way Alby talks is full of gentle authority and even adults are swayed by what he says.

"OK," says Mr Matfis peevishly, "You and Minho can go."

"I think we should take all the Keepers and Medjacks," replies Alby solemnly. "And Thomas." Thomas feels the Gladers' eyes on him and he looks at the floor.

In the adrenaline-pumped moments of the attack, Thomas hadn't really paid much attention to his injuries, but now his cheek is starting to throb painfully.

Once, they're out of the classroom, blood has started flowing more steadily down Thomas' cheek. Newt stiffens and looks at Thomas with concern.

"I think we should go to the infirmary first and put Ben there." declares Newt, "Tommy is also pretty shucked so we should get the Medjacks to patch him up."

Gally shrugs. "So what? Bear it like a man, Tommy." Hatred for Gally bubbles up furiously in Newt. He would've marched over himself and punched Gally in the face. Minho reaches Gally first.

Wham. Gally flies backwards and his head knocks against the wall. Minho is breathing heavily and shakes his hand.

"It's not the shucking time or place," says Minho forcefully and he stamps on Gally's hand. Gally swears and sits up against the wall. Blood is trickling from his nose. "So you can shut your shank mouth or you can go back to class." Gally stands up and yanks Minho forwards. Minho flails but he doesn't fall.

"I'd rather go back to the class than look at your face," Gally rages. He turns around and walks away, shoes clomping heavily on the floor. Newt notices that Alby looks rather crestfallen but he keeps it to himself.

"Well at least I don't have a potato for a nose!" taunts Minho and he hoists Ben up again. "Let's go to the infirmary."

All the way there, Newt keeps himself firmly planted to Thomas and puts an arm around his waist, supporting him. Once or twice Thomas stumbles, but Newt catches him.

The matron, a motherly woman named Alma walks out. "Oh, you boys, what have you done now?"

"There's been an attack," replies Alby and Newt decides to let him talk. "One of the Runners are taking drugs and he's unstable, so could we put him in the isolation room for now?" Alma nods gravely.

Minho pushes the door open and puts Ben on the bed, maybe a little roughly. He looks at Ben's still form.

"Sorry, you poor shank," he says and then Minho walks out. All the Keepers silently follow.

Meanwhile, Alma is all over Thomas and she is dabbing at his face and hands. Jeff and Clint are also helping - it turns out Thomas has twisted his ankle quite badly.

Newt stands by Thomas the whole time, his eyes trained unwaveringly on him. The Med-jacks are bandaging his ankle now and Alma leaves the room.

She comes back with some tape, which she sticks on the bite on Thomas' cheek. "I want you to replace the tape every day because bites can get infected very easily, OK?" She looks enquiringly at Newt. "Maybe you could help him, Isaac?"

Newt goes red and Thomas snorts. "Oh, please call me Newt. And yeah, I'll help Tommy over here."

When Thomas is all patched up, Alma fusses and frets until Newt tells her she should probably look to Ben.

"You better?" says Newt, as they walk to the other Keepers.

"Yeah," sighs Thomas then he winces. "My shucking cheek just hurts a little when I talk."

Alby approaches them. "Let's go to Jorge," he says and they brusquely walk in the direction of the Homestead.

The Homestead is where the staffrooms and admin are and where meetings are held. Jorge's office is also there.

"Wait, what if Jorge is teaching PE?" says Thomas, a little confused.

Winston, Keeper of the Slicers shakes his head. "Nah, he's always free at third period. Fact."

"I think it's because he always goes to the Food Tech. kitchen to steal Frypan's food," quips Minho. Frypan laughs.

"One time I walked in to collect my pizza, Jorge was there taking a slice and I have never laughed so hard since." adds Frypan. Everyone cracks up but Newt notices that Thomas isn't really smiling.

The Keepers go quiet as they reach the door of Jorge's office. The sign there reads 'Engaged'. Grumbling, Alby sits down and everyone follows. Newt takes this as an opportunity to talk to Thomas.

"Are you OK?" he says tentatively. "You don't seem very happy." Thomas looks up in surprise.

"Well, it's just that-" Thomas' voice breaks. "Ben said that I did this to him and they told him."

"They?" echoes Newt. He's not quite sure how to respond. "You mean the Grievers or something?"

"I don't know," whispers Thomas and Newt has to strain his ears to listen. "But how can this be my fault? How did I make Ben take the Sting, I-" Thomas seizes up and his breathing is ragged.

Newt wraps an arm around him. "Tommy, are you OK?" Thomas ignores him and now he's gone white. Newt does the first thing he can think of, he slaps Thomas hard in the face.

Everyone looks at them and Minho's inquisitive puppy dog face isn't helping either. "Whoops?" Newt manages.

Thomas looks slightly dazed, half of his face going red. "Shuck, Thomas, I'm so bloody sorry but I didn't know what else to do and-"

"It's fine," says Thomas quietly, in a small voice. At that moment, the door opens and Ms. Yang, last year's English teacher walks out.

"Wait, you still work here?" says Minho, slightly puzzled.

"Just because I don't teach you anymore doesn't mean I've quit," retorts Ms. Yang. She turns to Thomas and Newt. "By the way, all the staff think you guys are a cute couple." Patches of red bloom on Thomas and Newt's cheeks. Minho smirks. She strolls off and turns a corner.

A few seconds later, Newt hears high-pitched laughter and shrieking, followed by sobs. Well, she was always a bit weird-

"MY OTP!" They hear a shout and then more wailing. Newt smiles and looks at Thomas who is baffled.

"She was our last year's English teacher." Newt thinks about all the happy yet slightly weird times with Ms. Yang. "She was great."

Jorge opens his door and when he sees all the Keepers and Heads he swallows. "Come in, boys."

It's quite strange how the Glade works. The school is run and maintained by students with supervision from staff. Each year has people in different teams but the Keepers are only Sixth Form.

It's mainly a student-run school and it teaches people to do work and not be a lazy shuck-face.

"State who's here," Jorge says. Newt notices him closing a window with an unfinished game of solitaire on his computer. "I don't have all day, muchachos!"

"Minho, Keeper of the Runners." drawls Minho, sounding just as bored as Jorge. "Why is this even necessary? You shucking know who we are!"

"It's school protocol," says Jorge, sounding affronted. "Now shut up before I make you a permanent Slopper." Minho rolls his eyes.

"Winston, Keeper of the Blood House." Thomas looks alarmed and Newt's heart melts a little.

"Frypan, Keeper of the Cooks." says Frypan.

"Real name please," says Jorge, his eyes twinkling.

"Siggy," grumbles Frypan. "Is that good enough?" Thomas snorts and Frypan glares. "I'll poison your next meal." Thomas takes a step back.

"Full name, muchacho!" says Jorge, an evil glint in his eye.

"SIGMUND!" thunders out Frypan. Jorge smirks.

"Zart, Keeper of the Track-hoes."

"Alby, head boy."

"Hey, you didn't ask for his full name!" protests Frypan indignantly. Jorge ignores him.

"Newt, deputy head boy."

"Where's Gally?" asks Jorge, looking around the room.

"Temporarily inconvenienced," mutters Minho darkly. "By me." He adds on, more quietly.

"Um...Thomas?" says Thomas uncertainly. Newt had given him a hard prod in the arm and Thomas blurts his name out.

"Ah yes," says Jorge. "You're a newbie?" Thomas nods slowly.

"Yes?" Thomas sounds rather unsure and Newt is five seconds away from yanking Thomas towards him by the tie and making out in front of the headmaster.

"Then if you're here, this is probably your fault," Jorge gestures around the room. "Explain."

Thomas does and Jorge's expression takes a one-eighty. By the end of the explanation, with input from Newt and Alby, Jorge looks very grim indeed.

"Where is Ben right now?"

"We took him to the infirmary." says Alby. "The drugs-they've made him unstable, he was unconscious when we left him."

"What's going to happen?" This time, it's Thomas who speaks. "Is Ben going to be suspended or expelled or put on detention or something?"

Newt looks tersely at Minho and gestures furtively with his eyebrows. They have a silent eyebrow conversation. Newt thinks Ben should be expelled or in Glader terms, Banished. Minho knows Ben should be expelled too but he's reluctant to do something like that to his fellow Runner.

"Oi, Minewt! Listen," admonishes Jorge. Newt is vaguely pissed off by the 'Minewt' thing and looks at Thomas, who is glaring at Minho. Minho remains happily oblivious. Thank the bloody gods.

"I think I will leave the decision of Ben up to the Gladers in your year. I'll schedule a meeting after dinner in the Homestead and instead of the common room, we'll have the meeting. I'll be there."

"Will Ben be there?" asks Frypan.

"No," says Jorge curtly but Newt can see Jorge is cut up about this whole business. "I'll see him later."

*

The news of the attack spreads around the Glade fast and all the Gladers are talking. Even wee little Year Sevens point at Thomas sometimes, only to be glared to be glared at by Newt, Thomas and Minho.

"I'm sure the whole bloody thing will blow over eventually," huffs Newt, absolutely sick of random people casting awed and frightened glances at them. "It's like being in Harry shucking Potter."

"But Daniel Radcliffe is pretty fit unlike our ugly shank here," teases Minho. Thomas' lip curls.

"Are you referring to yourself?" retorts Thomas.

"Oooh, burn!" says Newt, "Nah, you're absolutely shuckable."

"Is that even a word?" says Minho. He wrinkles his nose. "Sounds like it's something Gally would come up with."

"Speaking of Gally," Newt cuts off as he sees Gally trundling across the corridor. "Here he is."

Ever since the whole Gally-Minho debacle, Gally had been at his surliest, even more temperamental with a broken nose.

"Newt," seethes Gally, already angry from seeing Minho apparently. "I need to talk to you, alone."

"What for, shank?" snaps Thomas. Newt looks at Thomas in surprise. It might be common knowledge that Gally and Thomas had an ongoing feud but Thomas had never shown a lot of outward hostility, unlike Gally.

"None of your klunk business," replies Gally venomously. He grabs Newt's wrist and pulls him to the corner.

"Come back in five minutes for the meeting!" hollers Minho and then they're alone.

"How do you do it?" says Gally and there's desperation in his tone.

"Do what?" says Newt, nonplussed. "What do you mean?"

"Everyone likes you and everyone hates me," spits Gally. Newt inhales sharply. "I'm not shucking stupid, I can tell. But you're the Golden Boy along with Minho the powerful Runner and Thomas the dumb Greenie." Newt feels a surge of rage and looks at Gally, but feels pity instead.

"I can't do it." whispers Gally and his voice breaks at the end. "Alby hates me." Newt wants nothing more than to bash Gally and Alby's heads together at this moment and make those two slintheads go off with whatever they have.

"I don't know," strains Newt. "I just be more Newt than Isaac." In the first years at the Glade, Newt was an Isaac and also a whiny little snotrag who looked down on everyone. The Isaac complex is not one to be revisited. It took Minho approximately a month of badmouthing Newt to wear him down to a better person.

"Forget it," hisses Gally and he's stomping towards the Homestead for the meeting. Newt follows but then his shucking knee chooses to give out at that very moment.

"Gally!" calls Newt and he manages to push himself upwards. "Could ya help me?" Gally turns around and sighs impatiently.

"Fine," he says and he yanks Newt up. It's less rough than Newt expected, he expected something more like a sharp jerk upwards.

"Do you need me to support you?" offers Gally, after a moment's hesitation. Newt nods, frustrated that he can't walk by himself. Pain laces his knee but it's bearable.

Newt puts his arm around Gally's neck and they start walking.

"Why aren't you just like this normally?" asks Newt, slightly weirded out at the fact Gally's being nice. "You used to be... OK." He winces at how blunt it sounds.

"The Sting changed me," replies Gally. "Anyway, no one likes me enough to think I'm nice." Some of the anger Newt had always reserved for Gally slips away as he starts to understand.

Newt doesn't know what the Sting does but he's seen Gally thrashing in pain and screaming. That one time when Gally had been tying his shoelaces or some klunk like that, a Griever comes up and stabs the needle into his arm.

Maybe Gally has a nice side, which is reserved exclusively for...Alby?

At the meeting room door, Thomas is there, tapping his foot. He sighs, seemingly relieved when he sees Newt.

Gally unhooks Newt's arm and walks into the meeting room with a gruff 'thanks'.

"Why was your arm around Gally?" says Thomas heatedly. Newt wonders if it's because Thomas has been waiting for a long time.

"Oh, I fell and he helped me."

"Gally helped you?" The disbelief is evident in Thomas' tone.

"Well, he's not 100% evil," responds Newt and they enter the meeting room.

It looks slightly like a court house if you look at the polished wooden benches and the dreary atmosphere. There is also a podium for people to speak.

Yeah, they held meetings every week on Saturday but the last time a meeting had been called by the headmaster, it was because of a Runner called Nick.

Runners are trouble, thinks Newt and he reluctantly leaves Thomas to go sit with the other Keepers. The other  
Gladers are divided into their teams. The Slicers are together, the Track-hoes are together.

Jorge walks in and the chatter dies away. "Good evening, Gladers," rumbles Jorge and there's the craping of chairs as everyone stands up. "This meeting is now declared commence. Will someone please state the issue at hand?" Newt turns to Alby, expecting him to get up. Alby shakes his head and looks expectantly at Newt.

"Oh fine," Newt grumbles under his breath and he walks to the podium.

"So the day before," he begins, "Thomas was attacked by one of our Runners...Ben." Of course, everyone already knows this but wildly exaggerated and untrue tales have been flying everywhere and everyone is eager for the real version. "Before I deliver my opinion, I call upon the witness to testify. Thomas?" The meetings are always serious with rare intervention from teachers.

Thomas makes a frantic gesture as if to say 'Who, me?' Newt beckons him over. Nervously, Thomas approaches the stand and starts talking.

"So I was in Food Tech when Ben asked me to go talk to him," starts Thomas and he's stuttering through his words. Newt tries to ignore the second hand embarrassment. "I said OK as there was ten minutes left and I didn't do anything. We walked to the woods and I asked him what he was going to say." His voice is more confident and strong now so Newt breathes a sigh of relief.

"But Ben went crazy or something and he jumped on me. First he punched me and then he bit my cheek hard." Thomas points to the tape on his face. "At that moment I managed to throw him off me and I ran back to the classroom. I had hurt my leg in the fight though so Ben was gaining on me. Then Newt must've heard me shouting and he knocked Ben out ad yeah...that's what happened." Thomas concludes, somewhat lamely. Newt notices Thomas leaves out the part about Ben saying it's his fault.

"Yes, so after that, I alerted the Keepers and Alby got permission to take Ben and Tommy to the infirmary." Newt says and looks at Jorge. "Um, I was wondering what state Ben is in right now? Has anyone seen him?" Newt expects Jorge to say something but instead, Minho walks up to the stand.

"Unsurprisingly, Ben's not doing well. I think the Sting makes you hallucinate and remember all the klunk in your life and...I talked to the nurse and she said Ben hadn't taken it once, he had been doing it since last year." Minho's face is etched with pain. "I don't think any of us knew he had been getting stuff from the Grievers."

"Basically, we're here to decide what the consequences should be for taking illegal drugs and attacking Tommy." My Tommy, Newt adds silently. "Keepers, what do you think? And Alby, of course." Alby comes up to the podium, where Thomas is still standing uncertainly.

"Ben broke one of our most important rules: Never harm another Glader. However, he was also under the influence of drugs as he did so but that doesn't excuse what he did. No one really knows what the Sting is but it sounds like a Class A drug to me. I think Ben should be Banished." Newt watches the impact of Alby's words on the other Gladers. There's muttering which gradually rises to chatter.

"Shut it!" says Newt, raising his voice a little. "Personally, I think that maybe he shouldn't be Banished completely."

"What do you mean?" shouts one of the Gladers.

"I think Ben should be Banished but with permission to return, once he's clean off the Sting." The whispers increase although some people are nodding and some are shaking their heads.

The Keepers stand up. "I think Ben should be Banished, full stop." says Winston. "What he did was inexcusable and this is the one of the most serious incident we've had involving the Sting."

Frypan glares at Winston, "I think you're being a little harsh, man. I agree with Newt."

Most of their opinions are either supporting Newt's or Alby's but then it's Gally's turn. There's clearly hostility in the air. Gally also sees this.

"I agree with Newt," says Gally eventually. "I don't Ben was ever like that, I mean, we all know that he's one of the nicest shucking people to walk the Earth." There are some raised eyebrows at this but Newt smiles inside. Maybe Gally is taking his advice.

"I side with Newt here," says Minho. "I also agree with Gally- yeah, yeah." Thomas looks bemused and Newt stifles the desire to laugh.

Newt takes his place at the podium again. "So, all in favour of Banishing Ben permanently?" A few people raise their hands, including Winston but it's less than a quarter.

"All in favour of Banishing Ben till he's clean?" Everyone else raises their hands, including Thomas. "OK, semi-permanent Banishment it is. Newt catches Jorge's eye and knows at once that Jorge is pleased with the outcome.

"I announce this meeting finished," declares Newt and there's the scraping of benches as people get up and leave.

Soon, only Thomas, Minho, Newt and Gally in the meeting.

"Gally, why are you still here?" asks Minho, unable to keep a certain sharpness only he could achieve out of his tone.

"I wanted to say sorry," says Gally. "For being a shank and everything." Then he leaves immediately. Minho lets out a huge breath.

"Gally's turning over a new leaf isn't he?"

*

The message no one wants to deliver, is to Ben. Jorge had left the task up to Newt and Alby. Quite rudely, Newt had added.

"I've already got paperwork and a pile of phone calls to make to Ben's parents and several others." Jorge had said accusingly, as if the whole thing was Newt's fault.

The deadline is within one week. But how could Newt tell someone who was on drugs that they were being Banished by the other Gladers?

"Minho, could you tell Ben?" pleads Newt. He could tell the news of Banishment is like a ticking bomb to Minho. Ben is the bomb.

"I'm sorry man, I can't," breathes Minho raggedly, he's just come back from a run. "I can't. I just can't."

"Minho," tries Newt. "You know Ben best, you understand him. I don't know how to tell Ben." And he's telling the truth here. He's not trying to shove the weight onto Minho, he really isn't. Newt wants the best thing for Ben and he'd probably stutter and make a mess anyway.

Eventually, Minho agrees but only if Alby's with him. Ben still goes to lessons and maybe he does notice that people shy away from him like he's a contagious disease.

*

Thomas feels guilty. He knows he shouldn't be, how could he have made Ben take the Sting? However, there's still the unnerving tug at the back of his mind, trying to tell him something.

As usual, Thomas wakes up in the morning, entangled with Newt. Newt suddenly tenses in his sleep and grabs Thomas' crotch. Hard. Thomas lets out a sharp intake of breath and keeps still.

He really shouldn't be getting turned on from this. As he reaches down to try and pry Newt's hand away, Newt wakes up. His eyes widen and Newt's hand immediately leaves his balls.

"Shuck me, Tommy, I'm so sorry. I swear I was asleep-" Newt breaks off as he realises the 'shuck me' definitely didn't help the current situation. "God, please do not look at me." Newt's cheeks are tinted pink and his hair is adorably messy.

At breakfast, Newt is talking to Thomas when Minho snorts at them. Snot probably flew across the table.

Now Thomas doesn't want his toast anymore.

"You shanks should get together already!" says Minho and he tries to push Thomas and Newt together.

"What?" Thomas is too confused to realise Newt's lips are a mere inch from his so he hastily backs away.

"What do you mean, what?" asks Newt. Thomas leans over to whisper in Newt's ear.

"Don't you and Minho have a thing?" Newt's face scrunches up in a mixture of confusion, exasperation and annoyance.

"No," hisses Newt, rather affronted. "What gave you that idea?" Minho looks bemused.

"What're you shanks talking about?" Thomas ignores him.

"I saw you kissing and-" Newt groans.

"Oh my god, why didn't you ask Alby or something?" he whines and steals Minho's toast. Minho snatches it back but not before Newt crams half in his mouth.

"I did but I was still confused!" replies Thomas slightly heatedly. He's confused right now.

"Minho and I-" Newt drops his voice to a whisper. "We just get drunk and kiss but it never means anything, it's like...uh a friend thing, I promise." Light, glorious relief washes over Thomas and he hopelessly tries to squash it down.

He shouldn't be so happy about this. By now, Minho's finally twigged it.

"You absolute shucking numbskull dead-headed moron!" screeches Minho and he gets up and leaves the table.

Gally looks up at him, frowns and continues checking out Alby.

Newt corners Thomas during lunch. Thomas is slouching off by himself when Newt tugs his blazer impatiently.

"It's about Ben," Newt starts and Thomas is 100% focused on Newt at once. "Jorge is forcing one of us to do it." Thomas' throat goes dry.

"You don't want me to, do you?" Horrified by the prospect, Thomas turns to leave. Newt grabs his hand and this time, doesn't let go.

"Of course not," says Newt and he rolls his eyes. "Minho is. But could you come with him for moral support? Jorge has contacted his parents already, it's just...Minho really doesn't want Ben to go." Newt looks at him, a pleading expression on his face. He's still holding Thomas' hand.

"Sure!" gabbles Thomas, extremely relieved. "I mean, yeah, it's totally fine." Newt smiles wryly.

"You should go back and join the others." he says. "Took me a bloody long time to find you, trust me."

"Maybe I only want to hang out with you right now," blurts Thomas. The words are out of his mouth before he even realises. Newt's cheeks flush pink but then he narrows his suspiciously.

"Really?" Thomas nods emphatically in reply.

"Really," he says. "Do you want to go to the library?"

Newt's eyes widen. If only Thomas knew that the library was a code for making out.

*

"I've never watched or read Harry Potter," Thomas admits. He's just found out Newt is a hard-core Harry Potter fan. They're sitting amidst the bookshelves, away from the librarian's piercing glare.

"Are you bloody serious, Tommy?" chokes out Newt. "I'm going to have to educate you now." Just then, two Gladers in the lower school stumble past them, red-faced. There's a thunk from behind them and a book falls on Newt's head.

"Young love," he comments drily and rubs his head. Newt bangs on the bookshelf. "Tone it the shuck down! That's the deputy head boy talking to you!" The noises immediately turn to dead silence.

Sighing, Newt gets up and Thomas follows. The two boys seem to be in third form and both smile sheepishly at them.

"Hey, Newt?" the taller one says. "Sorry?"

"We thought you were going to do the same thing, honest," says the shorter boy, eyes glinting mischievously. "I mean, it's practically common knowledge you and Thomas are a thing." The bottom seems to drop out of Thomas' stomach.

What?

"No, we are not and you can tell everyone else that." snaps Newt firmly. "Now bugger off before I tell the librarian." The boys scamper away, still grinning.

The whole has obviously riled Newt up, and the conversation lapses into a sullen silence.

"Bloody third formers. Think they know shucking everything," grumbles Newt. "Maybe we should pretend to go out and break up just to see their shuck faces." Thomas' heart thuds faster and they're slowly leaning closer and closer. Newt is too close and Thomas is aware of a silence descending upon them. He looks into Newt' eyes and Newt has never looked so vulnerable. Thomas knows he should pull away but he's transfixed and there's magnetic force drawing them in until the bell rings.

As if awoken from a spell, they both dart backwards. A horrible feeling hits Thomas, he can't tell whether it's disappointment or disgust. That scares him immensely.

"We should get back to class," says Newt, breathless. They hoist their rucksacks on their backs and walk off. Newt doesn't mention what happens.

In Maths, Minho picks up on it at once. For all the skills he already shucking has, Minho also gets to be annoyingly perceptive.

"Why do I feel unresolved sexual tension?" he says, a little loudly. Gally looks terrified and so does Alby until they realise Minho isn't talking to them.

Newt wants to pound their thick skulls. He also resists the urge to thump Minho till he cries, although it is certain that Newt could never overpower Minho anyway.

"Shut your mouth," hisses Newt, just as Mrs. Trask glares at them icily.

"Do you have something to share with the class?" she intones sourly. Mrs. Trask is almost brandishing her GSCE Maths textbook threateningly. Minho gulps.

"Of course not!" Unfortunately, Mrs. Trask seems to take that as insolence.

"Tell the class, or you can tell me in weekend detention instead." The Gladers are staring curiously at Minho and it is not helping.

"There's unresolved sexual tension in the air!" shouts out Minho and Mrs. Trask doesn't look pleased.

"See me on Saturday for detention." she snaps ferociously. Minho's eyes widen in outrage. Newt can tell Minho is going to do something stupid but he doesn't even bother trying to stop him.

Minho's a stubborn shank when he wants to be.

"You can't do that!" he wails. "You said I wouldn't get detention if I told you!"

"Maybe I changed my mind!" sneers the now furious teacher.

"Then you're a liar!" retorts Minho.

"I will not be talked to like that by a little boy," fumes Mrs. Trask and each word is laced with barely controlled rage. "So sit your ugly butt down before I kill you!" Newt stands up in disbelief.

"That's my friend you're insulting," says Newt through gritted teeth. "And I suggest you don't talk like that if you don't want to be reported."

"Are you threatening me, Isaac?" demands Mrs. Trask, incandescent with anger. Most people are laughing or watching in terrified silence.

"Maybe he is," says Thomas fiercely and Newt whips around in surprise. "So shut up and be an actual teacher and stop talking klunk about Newt."

They end up outside Jorge's office. All three of them. Newt wants to push Thomas up against the wall and kiss him till he's breathless. He stuck up for me!

Newt should be embarrassed by how happy he's feeling.

"Come in!" With a sigh, Thomas and Newt enter the office. This time, it's a little messier. Some papers are on the floor and Jorge is looking extremely stressed.

"Ah, don't pick up my papers," says Jorge wearily. "They're there for a reason."

"What reason?" asks Thomas, obviously more comfortable around Jorge now.

"Mr. Janson has been giving me pressure, especially after the whole Ben incident," spits Jorge. "Anyway, why are you here?" Minho hands him the note.

"Mrs. Trask sends you here for disrupting the lesson and repeatedly talking back to her. I see," drones Jorge. He slaps the note to the table, hiding the garish writing. "Care to explain?"

"That woman has shucking issues!" explodes Minho. "She said if I didn't tell her what I had just said she would give me weekend detention and when I did tell her, she gave me detention!" Jorge sighs.

"What exactly did you say?"

"There's sexual tension in the air?" says Minho, quieter than before. "But she told me to say it so I called her out on it."

Eventually, Jorge lets them off with a warning and a possible probation for Mrs. Trask. After they leave the office, Minho whoops.

"That slinthead is shucked!" he yell. There's the sound of banging.

"Shut it, muchacho!"

*

They're going to tell Ben. They're actually going to do it. Newt chews nervously on his nails and looks at the clock. He's in Prep with the others.

The tapping of Alby's pencil driving him crazy. However, Alby's not the only fidgety person in the room. Newt himself has been subconsciously sketching Thomas, although it resembles more animal than human. Minho is fiddling with the buckle on his Runner's bra, that's what Jorge calls it, although Minho prefers 'harness'.

"Start packing up!" the teacher finally calls and Newt stuffs his science folder into his bag. He beckons towards Minho, who looks rather gaunt.

Thomas also comes over, shoes squeaking on the wooden floor. "After dinner?"

There is a look of mutual agreement on their faces and they march determinedly to dinner. The high ceilings in the dinner hall looks scary instead of grand. Newt shivers at the feeling.

"You alright?" asks Thomas and Newt feels a sudden rush of affection.

"Just nervous," he reassures Thomas, who looks worried. "For once I'm not hungry." At that, Thomas gives him a half-smile and picks up his fork.

Maybe Minho doesn't think of himself as a big influence, but he is. Newt, Minho and Thomas sit in a silence itching to be broken. There's a feeling of palpable tension in the air.

Sausages and mash arrive, but even this splendid sight doesn't whet Newt's appetite. Minho doesn't make crude jokes. Alby detects it and nods reassuringly at them.

Ben's acting oddly. It's stifling hot but he's kept his blazer on. He seems to be in a daze. Newt can feel a prickling sensation at the back of his neck.

As Gladers scarf down treacle tart, Ben jerks and knocks his glass to the floor. It smashes and several over tables turn to find the cause of the sound.

"I'm so sorry," croaks Ben and he stands up. "I need to go to the loo." He legs it out the hall and Minho taps Newt. Newt jerks his head towards the direction Ben left in.

"You can eat our tarts," says Minho and there's commotion as Frypan dives for all three plates. They take this as a chance to exit. Newt vaguely notices Alby rising out of his seat and following.

Ben hasn't gotten very far. He's slumped against the wall, panting.

"Ben!" cries Minho and he races over to him to support him.

"Get off me!" shouts Ben and he weakly tries to get Minho off him. "Need-more-"

Newt's suspicions are confirmed at once. Ben is suffering from withdrawal.

"You need more of the Sting?" asks Thomas sharply. It seems he hasn't forgiven Ben as readily as everyone else.

"Yes-no," says Ben desperately. He rips off his blazer and Newt can see the ghastly green veins standing out on his arms, more protuberant than ever.

Minho's clearly having a hard time. How is he going to tell his friend that they're being expelled? Newt curses Jorge for the umpteenth time.

"Ben," says Newt as firmly as he can. "After you attacked Thomas, we had a meeting. You weren't called to attend because...it was about your punishment for seriously injuring Thomas."

"No, please, no," says Ben fearfully. "Don't tell me I'm being B-Banished. Please..." Ben is digging his nails into Minho's arms but Minho doesn't even blink.

"I'm sorry, Ben," says Newt and he truly is. "We voted Banishment-" Ben howls and lunges for Newt, all animal instinct. Minho holds him back.

"Semi-permanent Banishment," yells Newt, over Ben. "You are welcome to the Glade when you aren't addicted anymore."

"Don't tell me I'm going to the boot camp, please, please!"

"I think that's what you parents have arranged," replies Newt apologetically. Ben screams, feral and wild. He dives from Minho's grip and runs for Newt.

Thomas, who has been silent till now, readies himself. But Ben merely grips Newt's shoulders and whimpers.

"Please Newt, I wasn't right in the head, don't send me away. Not to the camp, anything, prison, anything-" Ben catches sight of Alby behind them.

"Please, Alby, please," Ben looks at them wildly. Thomas is frozen, Minho's face is full of pain, and Newt-well Newt is handing this over to Alby.

"I'm sorry, Ben," says Alby tonelessly. "Pack your bags and go to Jorge's office. Your parents will arrive soon." Ben had evidently not expected Alby to be so harsh.

"NO!" he shrieks and some of the other Gladers have come to see the cause of the commotion. "I'd rather die!"

In the end, it is Minho who drags Ben forcefully to the dorm, muttering apologies all the way.

Newt wants to kill Jorge so badly.

*

Eventually Ben accepts his fate. His screaming changes to wracking sobs as he packs. Newt had left, having done his part. Thomas follows him.

"I guess I wasn't really giving moral support," admits Thomas. "Poor Ben."

"The Sting is a terrible thing," replies Newt. "This one Glader, Nick, overdosed. Found him dead in the bathroom next morning. It was two years ago."

"So he was only fourteen?"

"Yeah." Unlucky shank he was," They sit quietly, not really looking at each other. Terrible things always seem to find the Glade. Nick's overdose, quite a few Banishments and of course, Rat Man.

Ben emerges from the dorm, his face tear-streaked and eyes red. People say their farewells and Minho looks like he's about to cry.

"Bye guys!" calls Ben, voice cracking. Then he's gone.

Silence. Then the bell rings and everyone starts moving again, as if a spell has been liftedLater in the dorms, Newt is nearly asleep when he realises something that makes him grin profusely. Ben's bed is empty, but Thomas is still tangled around him.

 


	5. Thomas Quotes Lemony Snicket

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another rehearsal. Trenda meets twice - and once is for a date. A tragedy occurs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'M SO SORRY FOR TAKING SO LONG! During half term (one week off school for my non-British readers) I had no inspiration whatsoever so I finished it today. 
> 
> Also, I'm going to edit my chapters slightly to round up some loose plot lines and add more TMR-ness.
> 
> I also decided to add some Teen Wolf characters to the Glade, if you don't like it please tell me. 
> 
> Creds to my lovely beta Lets_newtmas_shucks!
> 
> Thank you!  
> besthonestliar x

Chapter 5

"I have to spend an hour with Brenda, apparently," frowns Thomas, and he picks a sheet off the noticeboard. 

"What?" splutters Newt. He'd almost forgotten the play with all the Ben business. "Why?"

"Rat Man says we have to practise the balcony scene and memorise it, as there's no point wasting everyone else's time at the rehearsal," replies Thomas mildly. "I meet her today at four, in one of the music rooms."

Jealousy envelopes Newt tightly and he glares at the piece of paper, hoping to somehow disintergrate it with his gaze. It's not even midday yet. He had already been spontaneously combusting over the fact Thomas was still sleeping with him when Thomas had rolled over, literally grinding onto him. Maybe Newt had spent a little longer in the shower that day. Was it bad that Newt wanted nightly grindings to become a thing?

"Man, that sucks," says Newt carefully. "What a waste of time." He sincerely hopes Thomas shares his feelings. He doesn't.

"Nah, it should be fun. Brenda seems nice and all," shrugs Thomas nonchalantly and Newt's heart sinks. He's such a shank sometimes. 

"She kissed you!" It comes out more pathetic than incredulous and he sounds very, very desperate. Fortunately, Thomas doesn't catch on. 

"Well, maybe Brenda doesn't think it's a big thing," grins Thomas, somewhat forced. "But I wouldn't mind if she did think that." Newt is halfway from marching over to the Glader Girl's School to strangle Brenda. Shucking Brenda and her charm.

They are currently lounging out in the common room, textbooks on the table next to the fireplace. The common room is huge but empty because they were the only two who opted for staying in school at the weekend. Newt had ignored the way his heart leapt at the chance to be completely alone with Thomas.  
So far, it had been a crushing disappointment. Thanks to Brenda the bloody shank. Absolutely no touchy-touching had happened.

"Does Tommy have a crush?" taunts Newt, try his best not to sound like every word is paining him. Thomas grins hesitantly.

"Maybe..." he trails. "You know, we should go to lunch." Newt isn't particularly looking forward to lunch with the first formers, who aren't allowed out at the weekend. Maybe some other students who also decided to stay in as well. 

The people who don't go out are all squeezed onto one table and forced to make awkward lunch table conversation. Because Jorge is nice like that. 

"Yeah," repeats Newt, "We should." He honestly didn't mean to sound so sad at that moment.

Thomas wants to wrap his arms around Newt and comfort Newt, because he is looking at Thomas with tragic eyes. I don't, he argues with himself. I'm not gay! I like Brenda.

Whatever Teresa thinks his sexuality is, she isn't Thomas. He gets to choose.

*

In the dining hall, the first formers sit at their table, glaring despondently at the empty seats across them. The second former table has been allocated for the other forms.

To Thomas and Newt's abrupt horror, the third-form shanks they had caught in the library were sitting opposite them, evil twin grins on their faces. The memory of the...whatever it was, floats to Thomas' mind. He wants to dig and hole and bury himself in it. 

"Hey, Newt," says the short boy slyly. "Staying in with your boyfriend? I am." Thomas admires their nerve. When he was fourteen, he would hardly dare to speak like that to anyone, let alone the deputy head boy.

Newt groans. "You two again?" The dinner ladies come into the hall with trollies of food. Thomas takes a plate and digs in, along with everyone else. 

"What's your name?" asks Thomas, to the rude boy. The other boy snickers. He doesn't even know what's so funny.

"Derek!" hisses the short boy furiously. "Of course I'm not saying my real name!" He turns back to Thomas. 

"I'm Stiles," says Stiles slowly. "And that's Derek the shucky shuck-face." Derek doesn't smile. Smiles seem to be reserved for Stiles only. It's very cute.

"Your name is Stiles shucking Stilinski?" asks Newt. 

"How in the Glade do you know my surname?" gasps Stiles, dramatically falling back into Derek's arms. Thomas can't help but like Stiles. Stiles is slightly gawky and awkward, with a turned up nose and buzzed hair. In fact, Stiles looks really similar to his young self - cringeworthy and accident prone. 

"You," emphasises Newt, glaring at Stiles, "were the third former who turned over the infirmary vending machine trying to get a chocolate bar." Like Thomas said, cringeworthy and accident prone.

Derek chokes on his mouthful and cackles. "You never told me that was you! You said it was Scott!" Stiles pouts at him. 

Maybe they're not so bad after all. 

"-and like every normal shank ships Newtmas, you know?" gabbles Stiles excitedly. 

Thomas retracts his statement.

*

Since when did Newtmas ever become a thing? Newt looks at Stiles, who has mashed potatoes on his forehead. 

It turns out that Stiles is a hyper, sarcastic kid who has no brain-to-mouth filter. He is also clearly besotted with Derek. Derek, on the other hand, is the polar opposite of Stiles. Derek tends to glower at his plate menacingly and permanently looks like he's thinking of the best way to kill you. 

Gah. But Derek turns from grumpy, growly wolf to a eager puppy when it comes to Stiles. It's sickeningly cute, thinks Newt, as Derek swipes the mash off Stiles' forehead. 

Maybe Newt and Thomas could be shucking 'Newtmas' one day. Newt snorts. 

"What's so funny?" asks Thomas. 

"Oh, just your ugly shank face," shoots back Newt, fast as lightening. 

"Hey!" whines Thomas. "My face is beautiful!" It is indeed, thinks Newt gloomily.

"Have you looked in a mirror lately, Tommy?" Thomas gasps dramatically and pokes Newt.

Stiles shrieks and clutches Derek. Derek rolls his eyes fondly - Newt is going to puke.

"My fanboy feels! OTP!" squeals Stiles. "YOU GUYS ARE JUST SO CUTE TOGETHER LIKE JUST SHUCK ALREADY!" Thomas and Newt instinctively shuffle two inches away from each other. The other people on the table are sniggering into their desserts.

"Stiles," growls Derek warningly. Stiles huffs, tilts his head up and lightly kisses Derek. Derek shuts up at once.

"I mean you are so shucking cute and...oh, if only Newt was Juliet in the play," rambles on Stiles. 

Newt looks desperately at his bread and butter pudding (which is disgusting) and passes it to Stiles. "We have to go now!" Without thinking, Newt grabs Thomas' hand and they walk out the hall, fingers laced together. 

Thomas jerks his hand out from Newt's grasp suddenly, looking dazed. Hurt wells up in Newt but he swallows down his feelings and tries to smile. It comes out more like a grimace.

"Stiles is like your little brother," Newt says instead. "You practically look the same."

"Oh my god, Newt," laughs Thomas and grabs onto Newt's shoulder. This time, Thomas doesn't let go till they're in the common room again.

Newt might just die of happiness. Good that.

*

They dawdle lazily in the common room and Newt decides they deserve a study break and puts on 'Harry Potter The Philosopher's Stone'. He's already made Thomas finish the first book. Thomas comes back into the room and sees what's on the screen. He whoops because Newt has introduced Thomas to the Harry Potter fandom.

Newt sits down and so does Thomas, their thighs nudging together. It's quite nice really, thinks Newt, as he leans his head on Thomas' shoulder. Thomas stiffens but then he fondly messes up Newt's hair and goes back to watching Harry swallow the Snitch. 

Minho finds them curled up in a heap together, credits playing on the television. "Hey, lovebirds!"

Newt jumps and untangles himsef hastily, but reluctantly. For an hour, he had been able to pretend that it was him and his boyfriend watching a film. Newt inwardly sighs. Yeah right. 

The clock is pointing towards four and Thomas' eyes widen.

"Shuck. I have to go meet Brenda," Minho gasps, horrified.

"What happened to Newtmas?" he cries. "Why is it...Trenda now?" Thomas blushes and mutters unintelligible words. 

"Can someone take me to the music room?" Thomas looks meaningfully at Newt or at least that's what Newt thinks.

"I'll take ya, Tommy," says Newt and Minho claps delightedly. 

"Newtmas! Newtmas! NEWTMAS!" Minho cheers. Unfortunately for Thomas and Newt, the Gladers pouring into the common room hear Minho and promptly join in. 

They flee the room scarlet-faced to cries of 'NEWTMAS! NEWTMAS! NEWTMAS!'. 

On the way, Thomas is unusually silent. "You nervous about working with Brenda, Tommy?" Thomas shakes his head.

"I just...never mind," Thomas clams up and Newt doesn't bother trying to get more out of him. He just checks out Thomas instead. 

*

Near the music block, Brenda is leaning against the door, heels rapping against the wooden floor. Her impatient face turns to glee when she catches sight of Thomas. 

"Hey, Thomas!" she cries and grabs him in a hard hug. "Good to see you!" Newt wants to chop off her arms then make her eat them. 

Brenda sees Newt and smiles, but the smile is more cold than anything. He doesn't get a hug either. Shame. 

"Come on, Tom," says another girl's voice. Teresa steps out the shadows and grins. 

This time, it's Thomas who scoops Teresa in a hug and Brenda's face sours. Take that, shank, thinks Newt. 

"Made any new friends?" asks Teresa. 

"Well yeah, I met my Newtie here," responds Thomas and drags Newt forwards. 

"Yeah, I'm friends with Tommy...even though he's a shank," says Newt, smiling. It was stupid to be jealous of Teresa. 

"Tommy?" quips Teresa. Brenda arches an immaculate eyebrow. 

"Everyone calls me Thomas. Well, except Newt. He calls me Tommy." says Thomas, reddening slightly. 

"Let's move then, Tom," snaps Brenda and takes his hand, pulling him into one of the empty rooms. Teresa chuckles.

"Tom is so not her type," she says. "Wanna watch them?" 

That's how Newt ends up squished next to Teresa and peering through the glass panes in the door at Brenda and Thomas. The door isn't very soundproof so Newt can hear nearly every word that's been said.

"O Romeo, Romeo! Wherefore art thou Romeo?" declares Brenda, sounding incredibly tragic. "Deny thy father, and refuse thy name; Or if thou wilt not, be but sworn my love, and I'll no longer be a Capulet."

"Shall I hear more, or shall I speak at this?" Thomas is amazing as well. Newt wants to snog him even more than he already does. That's saying a lot.

And then...Brenda captures Thomas in her arms and kisses him. Newt tenses visibly, pain rocketing in his chest. Teresa gapes at the scene. 

"It's alright, Newton," says Teresa comfortingly and pats his back. "I don't think Tom likes her-oh." Thomas pulls Brenda closer in. 

Some sort of betrayal from Thomas wells up in Newt. It's pretty stupid actually but Thomas had almost lead Newt to believe that he had a bloody chance. The night-time cuddling, touching and-and...the library. Newt can pretend to Stiles that Newtmas isn't something he wants but he does. One-sided relationships are the worst. 

When Tommy the shank finally stops kissing Brenda, Newt looks at the odd expression on his face. 

"What are we, Tommy?" asks Brenda, eyes glinting. She looks like a cat waiting to pounce.

"That stick did not just!" gasps Teresa, "Nicknames are our thing only, right?" Newt smiles and nods. 

"Don't call me Tommy, please," mutters Thomas unabashedly. "I only let Newt call me that." Newt's heart does a happy somersault.

"Isaac?" sniffs Brenda disdainfully, wrinkling her nose. "What about Tom?"

"That's Teresa only," says Thomas, grinning. "No nicknames for you, I'm afraid." Thomas doesn't sound at all sorry. 

"Like I was saying, what are we, Thomas?" says Brenda, tossing back a lock of glossy brown hair. "Wanna go on a date?"

"Uh-OK," says Thomas pleasantly enough. "When?"

"This weekend?" The smug look is back on Brenda's stupid face. Newt wants to call her ugly but that would just be a lie. Pretty and confident, what any straight guy would want. 

Ugh Brenda, just go to hell. Teresa starts to shriek in protest so Newt hurriedly clamps a hand over her mouth. He immediately shirks away when Teresa licks his hand. 

"Tom is only being nice!" breathes Teresa, much happier. "He only said yes to the date to be nice."

"How do you know?" whispers Newt. He didn't mean to sound sceptical. Thomas and Brenda have started rehearsing again. 

"Because, you little flump-face, I have known Tom since nursery!" retorts Teresa. "I know when he's faking it." Newt's gloomy mood lifts...slightly. 

"You know what we should do, Isaac?" For some odd reason, Newt doesn't mind Teresa calling him that. 

"What?" 

"Make Tom jealous," Teresa rolls her eyes. "Because Newtmas." Newt gives a frustrated sigh. 

"What is it with everyone and Newtmas?" he huffs. Teresa ruffles his hair. Honestly, people mess up his hair so much, it's lucky raking a hand through his hair cleans it up fine. 

"It's obvious you like Tom, so quit denying it!" says Teresa. "So when they come out, just kiss me. Do you know how lonely it is in a girl's school?" The whole kissing thing doesn't alarm him as much as it should. 

"But you went out with Tommy?" Teresa scoffs.

"We were at different schools before I enrolled at the Glader Girls' in third form." she explains. "Boarding school definitely tops a state school."

"What school were you at?" asks Newt, intrigued. Thomas never said anything about his old school and frankly, didn't want to talk about it. 

"Stonewall High, the local comprehensive in-" Teresa stops as she sees Thomas and Brenda put on their coats. "Newt, snog me."

"What about the whole ex thing?" Teresa responds by hurriedly smushing their lips together. Newt hardly has time to adjust, he pulls Teresa a little closer and it's not that bad really. Except he's...100% gay. Hopefully Thomas has forgotten that.

Smiling slightly, Newt tries the tongue and Teresa does the same. Thomas walks out of the room, shock clear on his face. Teresa winks and Newt pulls away sheepishly. 

"Hey, Tommy?" he tries and to his pleasure/horror, Thomas looks hurt. "You done with the whole rehearsal?" Thomas ignores him and glares at Teresa.

"You know what I'm going to say," snarls Thomas, jaw clenched. Fishing for her phone, Brenda ducks back into the music room, eager to escape the awkward situation. So Brenda is smart as well.

"What is it, Tom?" questions Teresa, a hint of teasing in her voice. "Were you going to say that you made out with Brenda and you're going on a date next week?" Anger and hurt blaze in Thomas' eyes. 

"Th-That's absolutely none of your shucking business!" he seethes. 

"Exactly," pinpoints Teresa. "So Newt and I aren't your business either." Shuck, Teresa is conniving. 

"But-but you're my friends!" Teresa shrugs. 

"You're our friend," she states and Newt is sorry but Teresa definitely won that. Newt had stayed silent through the whole exchange and when Thomas turns his hard gaze to him, he curses inwardly. 

"We're going," snaps Thomas and he snares his arm around Newt's waist, holding him snugly. He slams the door, just in time for Newt to see Brenda emerge, looking crestfallen. Newt wants to laugh in her face because Thomas' hand is around his waist and not hers. 

Suck it up, shank! This train of though carries on for a bit, until Thomas stops walking and his arm slides off Newt's waist.

"Do you like Teresa?" Klunk. Newt has no idea what to say. Both answers would be dangerous. 

"Maybe?" says Newt, voice barely above an whisper. "Well, we were quite bored and-" Relief shows on Thomas' face and Newt's heart skips five hundred beats. 

"Just don't hurt Teresa if you do though," Newt nods. "Could we have a no exes rule?" Laughing, Newt nods again.

"I don't have an ex unless Minho counts," explains Newt to a perplexed Thomas. "I've been at the Glade since first form, no chance of girls."

"What about boys?" Thomas' question punctuates the air and Thomas, who may have just realised what he said, goes red. "N-not that I'm hinting anything because we're totally just friends like no homo."

"Tommy, stop talking like a straight white boy right this second," He can see that Thomas is trying to hide a grin.  
"Whatever you say, Newtie but that is what I am after all," With that, Thomas slings an arm around Newt's shoulder, squeezing them together.

Newt has never been so confused in his life. 

*

The next Saturday, Rat Man had organised another reheardal, with a death threat for people who would dare think about missing it.

"Silence! Silence!" shouts Rat Man at the cast of Romeo and Juliet. "This rehearsal has begun and I expect you all to be quiet." The last part comes out like a threat. Rat Man is standing on stage, bellowing from a microphone. 

Thomas is resting his head in Newt's lap, which is turning Newt's face scarlet. The only thing that dampened the mood was the fact that Brenda was right next to them, looking downright murderous.

Rat Man straightens the cuffs of his labcoat (Why does he wear a labcoat?) and clears his throat. "I believe that Romeo and Juliet have already practised the balcony scene, is that right?" 

"Yes!" chirps Brenda. Thomas mutters a half-hearted yes and gets up from Newt's lap, only to wrap his arms around Newt, resting his head on the blond's shoulder. 

"Would you please perform it to us and we can make adjustments if necessary." says Rat Man. It isn't a question. 

Brenda immediately jumps up and her face twists when she sees Thomas entwined with Newt. She drags Thomas somewhat roughly to the steps of the stage. Rat Man bellows about Brenda getting onto the balcony. 

"I don't see why we're here," mutters Minho. "Rat Man is just a cruel shanky shank."

"Minho!" laughs Newt. "Who uses 'shanky shank'? What are you, a first-former?" Minho changes the subject. He doesn't want his coolness to be questioned.

"You jealous?" he asks, eyebrow raised sadistically. 

"Maybe..." trails off Newt, watching Thomas profess his love to Brenda. Minho gives him a condescending glare. "Maybe I want to march onto stage and break Brenda's neck." 

"Good that, man," sniggers Minho, "Get all the anger out." 

Thank the gods for Minho.

*

Thomas is sweating uncomfortably. The bright lights on the stage are blinding him and he can barely see. He squints up at Brenda. 

"But to be frank, and give it thee again. And yet I wish but for the thing I have: My bounty is as boundless as the sea, my love as deep; for the more I give to thee, the more I have, for both are infinite." she says to him. Teresa shouts in the distance, being the Nurse. "I hear some noise within. Dear love, adieu! Anon, good Nurse! Sweet Montague, be true. Stay but a little, I will come again." Brenda retreats slightly from the balcony, so she is hidden from the audience.

Thomas doesn't particularly want to reply to Juliet's comment about boundless bounty but he does, under the watchful eye of Rat Man. 

"O blessed, blessed night!" shouts Thomas, mustering up as much emotion as possible. He pretends he's talking to Newt. That helps. "I am afeard, being in night, all this is but a dream, too-"

Newt. Thomas' breath catches in his throat and he stutters. He likes Brenda, he's going to date Brenda, not Newt. 

"THOMAS!" screeches Rat Man. "Please start talking!"

Cringing at the grating static of the microphone, Thomas starts again. "I am afeard, being in night, all this is but a dream," He pauses and this time he forces himself to look at Brenda and talk to her - not Juliet. 

It doesn't work. Not in the slightest.

"More emotion, boy! Again!" Now he's being humiliated onstage. 

Thomas looks over to where Newt and Minho are sitting. Newt smiles and gives Thomas a thumbs up. On the other hand, Minho raises his middle finger. 

OK, maybe Thomas is really good friends with Newt. Maybe he...might go a tiny bit above the friendship level when it comes to feelings for Newt. Good friends. This is the closest thing he can stand to the whole truth, which he is still painfully denying.

He starts his lines again, but he focuses on Newt. Thankfully, Rat Man doesn't try to humiliate him again. 

"Kiss each other now!" Or maybe he is. Thomas is halfway up the 'balcony' and he's just promised to married Brenda. 

He tilts his head up slightly and Brenda leans down, catching his lips in a not-so-chaste kiss. After five seconds, Thomas pulls away. Kissing Brenda was like cheap perfume, it was nice and sweet at first but eventually the feeling became cloying and dizzying and made you feel sick.

They finish off Act 2 Scene 2 without further comment from Rat Man. 

"Good!" calls Rat Man. "Now get off the stage." Thomas scrambles off the stage and walks back to his place. He doesn't even give Brenda a backwards glance.

"Hey Tommy," greets Newt as Thomas sits down. His voice is slightly strained. "Was it fun kissing Brenda?" Minho cackles beside them.

"Yeah, I suppose," Thomas says noncommitally. Except there's someone else who wants to make me stick my tongue down their throat. 

Now Rat Man is assembling people on stage for the masquerade ball and screaming for all the background people to get onstage. 

"Bye shanks," says Minho as Rat Man hollers 'Mercutio!'. "Have fun." And it is fun, watching Rat Man make Minho recite the entire Queen Mab speech, reprimanding Minho over and over again. 

"And in this state she gallops night by night through lovers' brains, and then they dream of love. Over courtiers' knees, that dream on curtsies straight. Over lawyer's fingets, who straight dream on fees. Over ladies' lips, who straight-" Minho stops as he tries to remember. Minho's usually pretty chill, but even he looks harried. Newt loops an arm around Thomas, resting his head on Thomas' chest. Brenda glares despondently at the floor. Ha. 

Newt closes his eyes. He's half concentrating on Minho messing up and half-concentrating on Thomas. He exhales contentedly and Thomas squirms. 

"You're tickling me," Thomas whispers into Newt's hair. "But not in a bad way." 

"What do you mean?" murmurs Newt sleepily, relishing the warmth of Thomas' skin. "Not in a bad way?"

"N-nothing," stammers Thomas. They stay like that while Rat Man talks to Brenda and Theo, who is playing Paris.

"Is Theo a Runner?" asks Thomas. "He's quite new, isn't he?" 

"Yeah," replies Newt. "That shank came last year. Managed to work his way up to Runner."

Thomas frowns. "I thought only original Gladers could be Runners."

"There are exceptions," shrugs Newt. "Theo had all the qualities of a Runner."

"D-do you think I could get to be a Runner?" says Thomas nervously. "I'm probably not good enough but I really, really want to but-" Newt cuts him him off and kisses Thomas hard.

Ha. As if Newt had that much bravado. "Relax Tommy," he says instead, "You might be able to."

At that point, Rat Man calls for Benvolio and Romeo. Thomas awkwardly detaches himself from Newt and they stride over to the stage. Newt's limbs feel a little wobbly.

They're still sleeping together at night (despite being teased by the entire dorm) but this type of touching consciously is much nicer. Newt lets himself admit that sometimes, when they're both awake, they still lie together in a heap.

But that doesn't mean much, Minho can touch Newt like that but Minho still checks out Theo in the changing room. 

Yeah. Minho and shucking Theo. "Newt," chides Rat Man. "Were you listening?"

"Uh-sorry," mutters Newt and he notices that Rat Man isn't shouting at him like he was at everyone else. 

"OK," says Rat Man. "Thomas, you need to see Brenda for the first time, I assume you've read your lines but you don't have to have it all memorised...yet." The horror on Thomas' face is evident.

"And Newt, just blend in at the front." Great. What a big part to play. 

When Thomas looks at Brenda with -bleh- that lovey-dovey look, Newt is green with envy. 

"Oh she doth teach the torches to burn bright! It seems she hangs upon the cheek of night as a rich jewel in an Ethiop's ear. Beauty too rich for use, for earth too dear!" stage-whispers Thomas, sounding enraptured. 

Ugh. Newt has heard this before all ready, in class, being hilariously deadpanned by Winston's flat, bored drawl. He watches Tybalt argue with Capulet for a while and then the dreaded sonnet starts. You know, the one where Romeo and Juliet meet for the first time. Ugh.

"If I profane with my unworthiest hand," proclaims Thomas and now the spotlight is shining on him and Brenda. It's pathetically heart-breaking for him and Newt wants to be in that spotlight, sans Brenda. 

Then Thomas kisses Brenda, all passion and chemistry and ugh. Minho offers Newt a sympathetic shrug. Newt accepts it and shrugs back.

*

Plays are exhausting, that is all Newt can say. Especially when you're watching the person you really, really (emphasis on really) like make out with someone who isn't you. 

After the rehearsal, Minho had obviously been talking to Theo because the pair slink off together, both smirking. Lucky shank. Minho doesn't have to go through the pain of crushing on a straight guy because Theo is openly bisexual and has been so since last year.

Gah. Newt is the poor fellow who has to keep dithering indecisively over, well...everything.

In the common room, a new notice is pinned to the board. Alby walks over and reads it aloud, voicing booming powerfully. 

"There's a disco on the 9th of October from seven to eleven o'clock, so in two weeks." Alby pauses and scans the notice. "Oh and you shanks might get lucky because the Glader Girls' are also attending." There's an outbreak of cheers from nearly all the Gladers, except Chuck and Winston. Chuck is too young to even attend and Winston just has an extreme phobia of balls. You should see him during football. 

Thomas makes his way to Newt and sits down next to him. "The Glade has discos?"

"Absolutely," replies Newt. "Two years attend each disco and Jorge rents out the town hall. It's really quite fun." But not when Brenda will be there, Newt thinks sourly. 

"Do people dance there?" Thomas screws up his face. "Because I cannot dance."

Newt laughs. "Oh, Tommy. You will, you will."

"Alby!" shouts Jeff. "Which form are we having the disco with?"

"Read the notice yourself, you lazy bastard!" shouts back Alby but he isn't bring serious. "We're with third form. First formers with the second. Fourth with seventh. Eighth are by themselves. Now shuck off."

"Klunk," breathes Newt. "Stiles. And. Derek."

"Klunk," agrees Thomas. "And Stiles' friends. I think he told us about them. Jackson, Scott, Isaac and Vernon?"

"You mean Jackson as in Jackson Whittemore? He's a bag of klunk. He's that spoiled over-achieving rich kid." says Newt, incredulous. Newt is absolutely that Stiles will accost him and Thomas ans force them to dance together or something. 

Since when has he been so scared of fourteen year olds? He thinks about Stiles' other friends. Scott...that shy guy with an unruly mop of brown hair. He's seen Isaac with the cheekbones and Vernon who doesn't like his name. They're not that bad, right? Newt hopes so because if they're anything like Stiles, he might just keel over and die. 

*

It's going to be dinner soon, at six but Newt has a careers meeting with a seventh former in the year above his. Newt gets up and Thomas makes an inquisitive noise. 

"Careers meeting," offers Newt and Thomas nods but then he pulls Newt back onto the sofa and into tight embrace that has Newt squirming inside. 

"Don't want you to go," mumbles Thomas, voice muffled, lips against Newt's shoulder. Newt laughs shakily and detaches himself from Thomas and then he leaves, smiling to himself.

As Newt walks to the seventh form common room, he contemplates what he wants to do. So far, he has no shucking idea. 

The noise of the common room is loud and rowdy but quieter than the sixth form common room, which is often full of hysterical laughter. 

As Newt knocks on the door, he hears footsteps and braces himself. 

What?

Derek is standing at the door, smirking. "Hey Newt," greets Derek. "Come in." Slightly confused, Newt walks into the room.

It's a bit smaller than his, probably because some people have left, but it's just as cosy. And shuck, Vernon is sitting by the fireplace. Stiles has friends in the seventh form, then.

"So the meeting?" says Newt weakly. Derek just nods and leads Newt into a study. 

"You get your own studies!" gasps Newt before he can stop himself. "Bloody hell!"

"Yeah," replies Derek, almost smiling. "We share them in pairs." As Newt sits down, the ridiculousness of the situation comes back to him. 

"How did I think you were in the third form?" Derek raises an eyebrow.

"You thought I was in the third form." deadpans Derek, "Says the person who looks twelve."

"I do not!" cries Newt indignantly. "Fine, maybe I look a little buggin' young, but I don't look twelve. I just assumed because of Stiles."

"Ah, Stiles," mutters Derek. "He's making me sneak into the disco with him."

"He what?" splutters Newt. Stiles must be really persuasive if he can convince grumpy Derek into doing that. "OK then."

"I know you like Thomas," says Derek. "And let me tell you, before Thomas came to the Glade, he had problems." Newt is aware of that, he thinks irritably. If only someone would tell him what Thomas did. 

"Yeah, what?" It comes out ruder than it should be. Derek does his eyebrow thing. 

"Ask Thomas yourself." 

"I have! He doesn't tell me anything!" shoots back Newt, annoyed. 

"Not my secret to tell," says Derek, grinning lazily. "What was it about careers again?"

The rest of the meeting goes OK, although Stiles interrupts them halfway through and proceeded to stay. Newt finds oht that Stiles has ADHD and hadn't took his Adderall which dilutes his energetic attitude. Yeah, that bad.

Newt still has no idea what he wants to do, although he knows what he could do now.

Ugh. And Thomas goes on a date with bloody Brenda tomorrow. Newt feels absolutely exhausted and he still has a ton of homework to do. He couldn't finish it during Prep at all. GSCEs suck.

*

It's official - Minho likes Theo and Theo likes Minho. Newt, amused watches Minho kiss Theo on the lips before going out for Runner duties. Thomas stiffens. 

"You bothered 'bout this, Tommy?" Two patches of link flare on Thomas' cheeks and he shakes his head hurriedly. 

"No, no, there's nothing wrong-I mean yeah it's fine, I would totally snog-" Newt honestly hopes Thomas was going to say 'you'. It's so dismally pathetic Newt can't even be bothered to make fun of himself - that bad. 

Newt decides to stay up amd try and tackle the mountain of homework that cruel teachers like to set. Minho and Thomas sit with him in the common room and the room is completely silent except for the rustling of paper and the scratching of pens. 

Around ten thirty, Minho gives the pair of them a goodnight and walks to the dorm, probably to make out with Theo or something.

The whole situation makes Newt want to scream. If Newt was going to like someone, couldn't his heart have chosen a slinthead who was definitely bent instead of the whole straight boy thing? 

Newt looks at Thomas, bent over his work, writing away. Maybe it'll never happen - but Thomas is worth the pain. 

At midnight, Newt feels his eyes sliding shut and Thomas is dozing on the couch. To tired to walk to the dorm, Newt climbs onto the couch with Thomas and daringly, in a haze of sleepiness, gives him a fleeting kiss on the forehead.

In the morning, Newt snuggles himself further into Thomas and Thomas wraps his arms a little tighter around, both unaware of the whole year silently watching them. Minho takes a dozen photos on his Polaroid (one of the stupidly expensive ones), and prints out a particularly unflattering picture. 

"Tommy?" Newt's voice is still ridden with sleep and when he hears laughter, he slowly raises his head and yells in shock.

"What the shuck!" he shrieks and promptly falls onto the floor. On the couch, Thomas gives a low groan and opens his eyes. 

For the second time, they run out the common room to chants of 'NEWTMAS! NEWTMAS!'. Bloody Minho.

In the empty dorm, Newt hurriedly changes his shirt and puts his blazer back on. He carefully stands back-to-back to Thomas, averting his eyes. When Newt is dressed reasonably decent, he turns around to tell Thomas to go. 

Gulp. Shuck me (score), screams Newt's brain, riddled with lust. Thomas is shirtless and searching for clothes, bent over so Newt can stare at his arse as well. Bloody hell. 

Although Newt occasionally sees Thomas dripping wet and slick with water in the showers, this one just hit him like a punch in the face. Newt clears his throat and Thomas jumps and turns around. 

Now Newt can see the curve of Thomas' collarbones and...the shucking trail of hair. They stare at each other until Newt realises the time.

"Shuck!" he exclaims, pulling out of his reverie. "We're late for breakfast!" Thomas looks somewhat disappointed and confused, but that's probably Newt's imagination.

The bloody horrible thing about weekends is that the bell still rings too early for anybody's liking - eight thirty. Newt always feels half asleep, although sleeping with Thomas helps. Ah, Tommy. The biggest puzzle of Newt's life, even worse than the bugging Maze.

At breakfast, Minho comments snidely on the fact that Newt and Thomas have sex hair and Theo drops a TMI. 

"Dude, I want to give you sex hair," he smirks and ruffles Minho's hair. Thomas spits a mouthful of milk and cornflake mush into his cereal and stares dismally at it. Newt snickers and Alby chokes, causing Gally to thump him on the back. 

"Some things are not to be shared this early in the morning," groans Alby. "I'm still recovering from...everything." He glances briefly at Gally. 

Disgusting, thinks Newt. But not as disgusting as the fact that Thomas is going on a date with Brenda today. 

"I guess we're heading in to Oxford today," says Newt to Thomas. He looks at Minho. "You coming?" Minho smirks apologetically and if smirking apologetically is possible, Minho owns it. 

"Yes, but I can't go with you. Alby and I are going to Pitt Rivers' and Natural History Museum because Alby wants to feel nerdy or something. And I doubt you want to come when Alby is waxing poetic about the structure of dinosaur dicks."

"I will?" says Alby, pretending to be confused. "No, I'll be feeling smart while you joke about getting shucked by well-all the exhibits." Minho groans and looks as if he regrets ever bringing up the subject.

"Not all at the same time, I hope," quips Gally teasingly, but not evilly. "Can't let my Alby lose his innocence now, can he?" Alby splutters and it's just so bloody obvious. 

So now Newt will have to drown in a puddle of his own misery and self-pity while Thomas is with Brenda.

"So it's just us?" asks Thomas, his question lingering in the air. "But what will you do while I-I'm with Brenda?" Thomas refuses to look Newt in the eyes while he says this. 

"Eh, go to the library, wander around or something," Newt shrugs it off and Thomas eventually drops the subject.

*

Thomas and Newt wander around the shops and they stop in Starbucks - well Thomas drags him in. Although Newt cannot stand coffee. How other people can sip the bitter, brown, murky, tepid and disgusting liquid is a mystery to Newt. Thomas takes his shucking coffee black with double, even triple shots of espresso, if he's up for it. 

And Starbucks is totally for hipsters, thinks Newt. That's one thing he will never understand. He is totally fine with his Earl Grey.

"You're so weird," chortles Thomas, as if he isn't drinking liquid made from crushed brown beans. "How do you take your tea like that? You're not a true Brit anymore." Thomas sticks his tongue into the opening of the cup and it's extremely off-putting because Newt can only imagine his tongue somewhere else. 

"I don't drink tea weird," huffs Newt, and he snorts as Thomas burns his tongue on coffee. "How am I weird?" Thomas looks at Newt like he's grown an extra head.

"First of all, you like Earl Grey over Yorkshire which is already weird," says Thomas. "Secondly, you don't put sugar or milk in!" Newt half-grins.

"Tea should be as bitter as wormwood and as sharp as a two-edged sword," he replies, "Duh."

"Quoting Lemony Snicket?" murmurs Thomas, leaning in. When Thomas is too close to be just talking, Newt shivers involuntarily. Coffee-scented breath fans across his face and Newt suddenly doesn't mind the smell of coffee, he just hates the taste.

"Maybe I am," Newt murmurs back lazily. The world seems to be stopping around them and yeah, it's lovely. "So what?"

Thomas leans closer, an odd look in his eyes, a twist of emotions. "Man hands on misery to man. It deepens like a coastal shelf," Newt smiles delightedly. Is this actually happening? 

"Get out as early as you can, and don't have any kids your-" Newt can almost feel the gentlest ghostly pressure of Thomas' lips when Thomas jumps back from him. 

Pain like a deep lacerating wound stabs at Newt. Hurt blossoms in his chest and he's more angry at himself until-

"Thomas!" comes Brenda's crisp voice. "And...Isaac." His name curls into a sneer at his name. Despite Newt being pretty bugging polite, Brenda still refused to call him Newt. Was that why Thomas pulled away? He saw Brenda? Or because he thought he was making a mistake?

"Newton!" Newt turns around to see Teresa launch herself energetically into his arms. "Missed you already." She winks mischievously. Thomas' expression immediately hardens and...maybe Newt can let himself believe that Thomas is jealous. 

"So I'll see you at one, Tommy?" Thomas nods stiffly and turns to Brenda.

"Yeah, bye," Thomas doesn't even turn around to say bye and Newt despondently leaves, Teresa squeezing his hand sympathetically. 

What the shuck was that? And it shucking hurts.

*

The atmosphere at the coffee table is getting a little rough and uneasy and Thomas reluctantly looks Brenda in the eye. Luckily, thanks to Brenda's flawless social skills, the conversation had remained smooth. It's still small talk though. And Thomas hates small talk. Polite questions that get stoppered with dead ends especially if the victim-Thomas means answerer is Thomas. 

"So where you from, Thomas?" Even Brenda sounds a little desperate for Thomas to stop answering in one-syllable replies. She's already asked enough questions to gather a comprehensive history of his life. Thomas should make more of an effort. 

"Oh, well, I was born in York," Thomas will elaborate on this. He. Will. "When I was four, there was this disease going around and my parents caught it...they died and-" Emotion stoppers Thomas' throat and his small talk is awful. 

"Oh my," gasps Brenda, looking genuinely sad. "That's-"

"It's fine," interrupts Thomas. He doesn't mean to be rude but he doesn't want to hear shallow condolences either. 

They sit in silence for a while and Thomas takes a sip of his coffee, which is lukewarm. As he stares into the depths of the murky liquid, his mind wonders to what Newt and Teresa are doing. A pang of jealousy grips him hard, unstoppable. Brenda is watching him, almost nervous. Definitely unlike Brenda.

"Can I tell you something, Thomas?" Startled, Thomas looks back at Brenda, guiltily. He shouldn't be thinking about Newt. 

"Yes, of course," Thomas internally cringes at how much of a moron he sounds.

"I think I'm going crazy," Brenda says. Whatever Thomas was expecting, it wasn't this. "I have these...urges and I'm scared. Scared that I can't control them for long." Brenda loses her cocky self and looks pleadingly at Thomas.

"I've never told anyone before but I think you-you're something." At an absolute loss for words, Thomas gulps down some more coffee. The bitterness is growing on him, perhaps because he still hasn't said anything.

Before Thomas can open his mouth, the wooden door bursts open, rattling on its hinges. A bartender drops a cream-topped latte and curses. 

It's Newt, running to his table, wincing with every step. His limp gets more pronounced. "Tommy," gasps Newt and he collapses -straight onto Thomas. Thomas staggers slightly under the weight and lets Newt sit. Brenda looks irritated. 

"Newt, are you alright?" says Thomas hurriedly. Newt shakes his head.

"'Ang on, Tommy," Brenda and Thomas both stare at Newt while he catches his breath.

"It's Alby. A Griever got him - he's been Stung," chokes Newt, "Minho sent me a text and Alby's gone mad, reall messed up klunk." Thomas' insides churn. He didn't know Alby that well, but Alby had always been authoritative and exuded an aura of niceness at the same time. 

"Brenda, I'm sorry but I have to go," Brenda nods, a little hurt but understanding at the same time. Newt doesn't seem to be very capable of walking, so Thomas puts his arm around Newt's waist to support him. Just to support him. No more, no less. 

Newt hobbles to the bus station and waits agitatedly to the bus back to the Glade. His phone rings. 

"Minho?" says Newt breathlessly and hurriedly puts it on speaker for Thomas to hear. "Where's Alby?" Minho's panting.

"He's running back to the Glade and he's stark raving mad. Tried to kill me," Minho sounds personally insulted by that. 

"He's running all the way back?" says Newt incredulously. "What are you doing then?"

"Well," says Minho diplomatically. "I chased him for a bit then I forced my sleeping pills into his mouth. He's snoring and I guess I'm gonna look like a shucking creep as I drag an unconcscious body on the bus with me. Does Alby still need a bus ticket?"

Newt exhales in relief. "I'll meet you at the Glade then. Love ya, shank." 

"Love you too." says Minho and hangs up. 

Thomas suddenly understands the talk of bad things always coming to the Glade.

*

"Newt!" screams Minho, barreling into the school gates. "Alby's woke up!" Thomas and Newt jump and stare at Minho in shock. 

"Where the bloody hell is he?" spits out Newt.

"Heading for the sports field," Without further ado, the trio charge to the sports field. Newt's leg really shucking hurts, but he ignores the stabbing pains. He's going to regret it later but for now his mind is focused on finding Alby.

Minho and Thomas could overtake him easily but they keep at his side, which Newt is grateful for. His two best friends, both special in their own way. Newt feels a suulrge of affection. 

 

As they reach th sports field, Minho's sharp eyes spot Alby's lone figure in front of the Maze. They run faster 

"Klunk, what if he goes in?" pants Newt. "Only Runners can somewhat navigate the Maze. Guys, leave me and grab Alby."

Minho dashes ahead and reaches the Maze doors, just in time for Alby to take a left turn. Maybe Newt should explain why there's a stone Maze in the middle of the shucking field. You see, the first headmaster of the school decided to construct a giant Maze to challenge the Runners. Each headmaster added an obstacle to the Maze. Once a week, Runners could spend two hours trying to map the Maze and find a way out. If Alby gets lost there, well, klunk.

Newt's been in the Maze and it's pretty complicated. Newt stops in front of the Maze with Thomas and gasps for breath. When he lifts his head, he sees Thomas run into the Maze.

"No, Tommy!" yells Newt in a panic. "Don't you bloody do it! Don't you dare!" Newt couldn't run in if he tried and while he can remember some of the Maze, his leg is useless.

Thomas disappears down the left turn, the same one Alby and Minho went down. 

"Tommy!" Newt shouts a final time. It's no good.

Thomas is long gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The poem I used is in the last book of A Series of Unfortunate Events by Lemony Snicket. Great series. The poem itself is by Philip Larkin and it's called This Be The Verse. Full poem below
> 
> They fuck you up, your mum and dad.  
> They may not mean to, but they do.  
> They fill you with some faults they had  
> And add some extra just for you.
> 
> But they were fucked up in their turn  
> By fools in old-style hats and coats,  
> Who half the time were soppy-stern  
> And half at one another's throats.
> 
> Man hands on misery to man.  
> It deepens like a coastal shelf.  
> Get out as early as you can,  
> And don't have any kids yourself.


	6. Running From Two Things

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thomas has some fun in the Maze. Minho messes up big time. Some slight fall-outs. Stiles decides he can fix everything, with Scott's help.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for taking sooo long to update. I saved this chapter as a draft a week ago and I couldn't find time to edit. Be warned, it's still unedited. I write on my phone so...yeah.
> 
> I hope you enjoy this chapter as much as I enjoyed writing it!

Chapter 6

Thomas knows it was a stupid idea to run into the Maze...but he did anyway. As he runs down the passage, he hears Newt calling him. Newt's voice is cracked and sounds almost betrayed. No kudos for guessing why.

Thomas follows the sound of footsteps and Alby's unintelligible screams. Twice he faces a dead end and turns back. The Maze is massive and Thomas wonders if Minho can remember how to get out. Thomas is shucked, for running into the Maze in the first place, thus breaking one of the Glade's most important rules. His legs are starting to ache and he's sweaty and red-faced. He doesn't know if he's covered most of the Maze, or just a fraction.

Beads of sweat roll down his face and his breathes are getting more sharp and painful. Fortunately, Thomas knows he can carry on.

When he finally finds Minho, by chance or by luck, he doesn't know. Alby is slumped on the floor, unconscious again and Minho is panting heavily. He doesn't look too good either, what with the red claw marks on his face. Minho also has scratches running down the length of his forearms, a huge bunch of them just there.

Minho turns to look at Thomas with a mixture of disbelief and anger. "Congratulations, Greenie. You just got yourself killed." Thomas decides to ignore this remark.

"What happened to Alby?" he says instead, trying to divert Minho's attention away from him. Minho grunts in reply and pulls out a small bottle from his pocket.

"Forced my tranquilisers down his shuck throat and held him down while the shank went to sleep." Minho sighs, "I did what I had to."

"Did Alby scratch you?" Minho ignores the question and turns to Thomas, hands on hips.

"You're full of questions aren't you, Greenie?" Minho snaps bitingly. He must be absolutely ballistic if he's referring to Thomas as 'Greenie' now. "Why the shuck are you in the damn Maze?" Thomas gulps.

"I-I was-" Minho cuts him off angrily.

"Trying to play the hero? Leaving Newt to worry about you? Don't you remember, no Gladers in the shucking Maze?" Minho pauses, and then says something, almost to himself. "I should just leave you here, you shank."

"Well, there's no going back," says Thomas nervously. "Do you know the way out?"

"Yes, lucky for us," snaps Minho. "Now lend me a hand and grab Alby." Thomas and Minho pick up Alby-shuck, he's heavy. Alby's feet still trail along the floor but Thomas figures scuffed shoes are the least of his worries right now.

"Did you hit any obstacles here?” asks Minho, after a while. He seems to have calmed down now. The weight of Alby is starting to take its toll on Thomas' shoulders, which are burning with agony. Thomas shakes his head. "You lucky son of a shank."

"What obstacles?" asks Thomas nervously. "Nothing dangerous, right?"

Minho shrugs. "Some hidden traps, ditches, holes, that kinda stuff," His anger seems to be wearing off now. Thomas takes a proper look around the Maze. Grey walls stretch nearly ten metres tall, coated with clinging strands of ivy. Both amazing and terrifying.

"What's the quickest way back?" Thomas had spent nearly half an hour running at a fast pace, now they're walking and slowly, at that.

"Quickest way goes through at least one obstacle, I think," muses Minho. "I think it's a net or something. Yeah, we'll go that way." Thomas sincerely hopes the confidence in Minho's voice isn't from sheer arrogance.

After a while-"What the shuck has Alby been eating?" cries Minho in desperation, almost throwing Alby to the floor. "Even my biceps can't take it anymore and that's saying something."

Thomas can't even talk because his arms are going to fall off. He grunts back in response and hopefully manages to communicate his feelings.

They slope on wearily and Thomas has a nagging suspicion that Minho is carrying more of Alby's weight than he is. The other boy is starting to slow.

"How long should Alby stay asleep?" Minho finally throws his hands up in frustration and Alby's head narrowly misses the floor. Thomas lets out a little shriek when Alby's full weight falls on him.

"Klunk, Greenie," says Minho and he picks Alby back up. "I don't know."

"Klunk," Thomas agrees. "Klunk." Presently, they reach a turn which has a large sign nailed to the wall. Thomas still has no idea what the walls are made of.

"WCKD Variable A7," Thomas reads out loud. "Isn't Rat Man working for WCKD?"

Minho nods. "They funded the Maze, most of it. Dunno why because they hate us, but they did. All the junk here is pretty high-tech." As he says this, Minho pulls a small rock from his Runner's harness and flings it to the floor in front of them.

Nothing happens at all, except the small bang of the rock bouncing off the ground. Thomas is honestly rather disappointed. He'd been expecting an explosion or for the floor to disappear.

"Excellent," mutters Minho darkly. He cautiously edges towards the path in front of them and taps the floor again, with his foot. "Clear." But as soon as Minho presses his hand against the wall, Thomas hears mechanical groaning.

"Watch out, sweetie!" shouts Minho. Thomas stays still, mystified as to why he's being called sweetie. "Greenie!" Oh, he must've misheard.

Dozens of sharpened wooden sticks shoot out the wall, very nearly spearing Minho. Minho immediately dives away.

"Oh," says Thomas. He hadn't been expecting that. Alby is lying on the floor. "How are we going to get past that?" Minho glares at him.

"Like this," he says and runs to the other side in a mad sprint. The speared points shoot out the wall, following him, but clearly not fast enough.

Now Thomas can't get through. "How do I do that with Alby?" he asks. "You stupid shank." Thomas adds as an afterthought.

They end up lying flat on their stomach and slowly pushing Alby along the floor. It's a slow torturous process and Thomas can't even look up, or he'll be speared.

*

Newt calls Gally, the first person he can think of. After three rings, Gally picks up.

"What?" he snaps, not even saying hello. Newt is offended.

"Minho and Thomas are in the Maze-" starts Newt and Gally interrupts.

"WHAT?" he roars. "What makes Thomas think he's good enough to go into the Maze?"

"I don't know," snips Newt. "But what I do know is they're trying to find Alby-"

"WHAT?" interrupts Gally again.

"Can you bloody shut your gob for five seconds so I can tell you!" barks Newt. He can only take Gally in small doses and he's already exceeded his weekly dosage. "Alby has been Stung and he ran into the Maze and I can't run after them because my leg's shucked it."

There's a sharp intake of breath from Gally. "OK, I'll get the other Runners."

Newt sits there limply, haha, and waits. Why did Thomas have to be so self-sacrificing? Newt doesn't know whether Thomas rushed into the Maze as an act of bravery or if it was plain idiocy. This doesn't change the fact that Alby's been Stung and his two best friends are in the Maze.

Newt looks down at his leg and curses. He'd go into the Maze for Thomas, even if the thought bloody terrified him. His leg throbs painfully, not concerned about the death glares from its owner.

"Shuck you, you useless piece of klunk," spits Newt and did he just talk to his leg? He's going insane. He hears footsteps and twists around, only to see the whole of the fifth form lumbering from behind Gally.

Captain Gally, that is.

Newt pushes himself upright then winces as his leg collapses under him, not supporting him. He's going to need crutches at this point. His face greets the grass and he rolls his eyes.

"Goddamnit," he mutters. Jeff and Clint come over to him and yank him upwards. They hand him crutches and Newt catches Gally's eye. Gally smiles timidly and nods.

If only Gally was this nice all the time. "I called for the Runners, not every Glader in existence!" shouts Newt. "Why are you shanks all here? Come to watch the show?"

"Moral support?" suggests Stiles, appearing behind the hubbub of the crowd.

"Stiles, what are you doing here?" Newt puts his face in his hands in frustration.

Theo runs forward, concern on his face. "Is Minho alright?" Newt grins fondly at Theo's expression.

"Hang on," he says and fumbles for his phone. Minho better bloody pick up.

*

They've nearly passed the walls of javelin-like things without anyone becoming a human porcupine when Minho's phone goes off.

Thomas hears Minho swear and answer the phone.

"Newt!" cries Minho. "Yeah, we're alright and we're at Variable A7, with shucking javelins everywhere. Theo?" Thomas can't see Minho but he knows that there's a cheesy grin on his face. Then Minho slides the phone along the ground to Thomas, who picks it up.

"Tommy?" says Newt. "You alright?"

"Ye-"

"You're a bloody shank, Tommy, you know," interrupts Newt. "The Maze is forbidden and now you've broken one of the most important rules in the Glade, we're probably going to have to call another Gathering."

"Well, Minho couldn't carry Alby by himself?" Thomas offers as an excuse. He can hear Newt sigh.

"Just stay safe, Tommy," The line goes dead and Thomas slides the phone back to Minho. They keep pushing Alby and they're out of Variable A7 and finally able to stand.

Suddenly strange whirring and clicking reaches Thomas' ears. The clunky shuffles of feet on the floor are also heard by Minho.

"What's that?" asks Thomas, trying not to let his voice shake.

"It could be another Runner," says Minho, but he does look a bit worried. "But let's hurry up." The pair keep dragging Alby along.

The noises from earlier keep Thomas on edge, on the lookout for anything suspicious. He's half-expecting mobs to jump out from around corners and kill him.

Clattering footsteps echo off the floor and Thomas turns around in alarm. He breathes a sigh of relief as it's just Theo.

"Theo!" cries Minho in relief. "You're here and you're going to help right?"

"No, I'm leaving now-well, of course, you dumb shank!" growls Theo. He grabs Minho and kisses him heatedly.

He turns away from the passionate couple and he's starting to feel the full weight of Alby in his arms.

"Minho!" yells Thomas exasperatedly. "Can we get out the Maze first?" Minho breaks away and grins sheepishly.

"OK, let's go,"

*

When three people emerge from the Maze holding another, dusty but triumphant figures and Newt feels his heart race.

"Newt!" cries Thomas and he steps towards him. Without thinking about his crutches and klunk leg, Newt grabs Thomas and pulls him into a hug, in front of all the other fifth formers and Stiles.

"Bloody glad you're fine, Tommy," whispers Newt, against Thomas' skin. "You shank."

"MY BABIES!" screams Stiles ecstatically. "NEWTMAS!" Everyone turns curiously to look at him. Thomas and Newt hastily break apart, red-faced.

"I like you, kid," shouts Minho. "Go Newtmas!" The cheer carries from the Maze all the way to the Homestead. When they get there, most of the Gladers disperse and Stiles leaves, albeit reluctantly.

This leaves Thomas, Newt, Minho and Theo, the other Runners having gone to take Alby to the infirmary.

The dignified air of the Homestead never ceases to unsettle Newt as he breathes in musky scent of the old books and dust.

Newt supposes that now Alby has been...Stung, he's actually the head boy now. He'd never thought even being in charge at all, just perfectly content with being second in command. The thought of attending Gatherings and delivering speeches at Open Day without Alby...it doesn't feel right.

Of course, there's always the chance that Alby will recover and be fine. Newt thinks about the capsules of mysterious Serum, stuffed under his mattress. They'd found them in their first year, in the Box, the main supply room in a cabinet labelled 'Grievers'. He hadn't dared to use them on Ben, unsure of what could happen.

"Come in!" calls Jorge cheerily. Newt turns the doorknob and to see a half-eaten pecan tart on Jorge's desk, probably courtesy of Frypan.

"Oh dear," sighs Jorge, "You guys are here for the third time this year and it's...only been a month?"

"I haven't been here yet," says Theo, grinning widely. Minho not-so-subtly jerks his head at Newt and glares at Theo. Theo immediately assumes the expression appropriate of a person who's close friend is on a sickbed.

"Did Mrs. Trask tell you off again?" asks Jorge, swivelling in his chair. "No? Well, it's probably newbie's fault."

"Alby has been Stung," says Thomas through gritted teeth. Newt can tell Thomas is annoyed.

"Another one?" thunders Jorge. "No matter how many times I complain about those damn monsters, the council will not do anything!"

"Jorge?" says Newt. "Alby ran into the Maze." Jorge closes his eyes and puts his face in his hands.

"Go on, muchacho," he says wearily. "I will wait for the worse."

"So when Alby ran into the Maze, Minho and Thomas followed him in-"

"Newbie!" shouts Jorge. "As much as I like you, you can't go breaking rules left and right. But it's good to see you alive and well." He directs a pointed glance at Newt.

Newt groans. They're going to have to call another Gathering.

*

"We're holding a Gathering next Monday evening," announces Newt to the packed common room. "It's about Alby."

Unsurprisingly, the news of Alby spreads fast. Some wild gabbles turn into rumours and there are younger Gladers who think that Alby single-handedly took down the team of Runners-"As if," Minho had sniffed. "Have you seen my arms?"-and Thomas navigated the whole Maze by himself.

When Minho and Newt are huddled together limbs askew in a pile from the cold in their dorm, (Thomas went to the loo, otherwise he would be part of the huddle), Minho's resentful feelings burst out his mouth.

"Why does Thomas get all the credit?" Minho explodes to Newt. "I took Alby down. I found him. I got us out the Maze. Why does Thomas get all the credit?" Newt can see that Minho isn't angry at Thomas, just hurt and stressed.

Newt winces. "Your elbow is literally on my bloody dick, move." Minho snorts and moves his arm. "It's because he ran into the Maze which no one's done for ages. The rumours are just exaggerated. Thomas isn't better than you, you shank, he'll never be as bloody good as our Minho." Minho smiles faintly.

"Keep going," he says contently, looking much happier. Newt willingly obliges.

"Thomas is nothing. He's just stupid but lucky to be here right now." Newt pauses, feeling like he's gone too far. He isn't exactly insulting Thomas, well he is, but he and Minho both aren't being serious. They're just joking. That's all. Friendly banter.

"I'm the best," mutters Minho under his breath. "And Thomas can suck my dick."

"Minho!" cries Newt, but he's laughing. Maybe he's been ditching Minho for Thomas lately but Minho's also been ditching him for Theo. They properly talked for ages and it feels good.

"Kiss for old time's sake?" says Minho.

Newt quirks an eyebrow. "Theo?" he scolds.

"Oh, it's just friendly," dismisses Minho with a wave of his hand. "This will totally strengthen our friendship." Newt snorts.

"It'll help you get rid of your sexual tension with Tommy boy," says Minho.

"Don't call him Tommy," Newt practically growls.

"Quick peck?" says Minho and he leans forward and lightly kisses Newt on the lips.

"Your kissing technique sucks," says Newt quietly. "Why does Theo like you?"

"Gee," someone says snidely. "Having fun?" Knowing what he'll see, Newt gets up and turns around - klunk.

Theo. And judging from the look on his face, he didn't hear, he just saw.

"Theo," says Minho, desperately. "I'm not-we're not-" Theo's look of betrayal deepens further.

He turns to Minho. "I trusted you," he says scathingly. He sounds both angry and sad. Minho winces like each word is piercing him. "And you're just gonna deny it."

"Theo-" Minho gets out. "I'm not ch-"

"I don't want to hear it," interrupts Theo. "Shuck you, Minho." Then he turns to Newt, who is just awkwardly standing there. Theo takes a step forward, but he's less and less angry, just broken.

"I thought I could rely on you, Newt," says Theo sadly. "I guess I was wrong." With that, he leaves.

Minho is standing there, frozen with shock. "We're up to our knees in klunk now," he says glumly

"You shank!" hisses Newt. "Go follow him!" As if jolted back into reality, Minho disappears down the corridor.

They really are knee-deep in klunk.

And how long is Thomas going to spend in the toilet?

*

Hurt skewers Thomas in the chest as he listens.

"-Thomas isn't better than you" says Newt casually. The hurt intensifies. Thomas does nothing but stand there, shocked.

"Thomas is nothing. He's just stupid but lucky to be here right now." Newt carries on and Thomas wants to punch Newt but also run away to find a place to cry.

He trusted Newt. He liked Newt. Good old Newt, the nice guy, ever the reliable one.

Well, not to Thomas anymore. When Minho suggests a kiss, he leaves. He's seen enough and he feels sick.

When Theo dashes down the corridor and bumps into Thomas, he asks where Minho is. Thomas doesn't hesitate in telling him. The elation of revenge spreads into him like ice and he revels in it, but then he instantly feels bad.

They had only been talking about Thomas. It wasn't worth sending a perfectly healthy relationship spiralling apart for Minho. The news would spread, like it always did. Then everyone would know that it was Newt who kissed Minho and how he broke them apart. And they couldn't use Gally's brew as an excuse. Thomas could've potentially ruined his friends' lives just because of one little thing.

His stomach churns unpleasantly at the thought and he decides to walk into the common room. Before he so much turns a corner, Theo runs past, eyes wet.

Oh klunk. He'd seen. About five seconds after, Minho comes sprinting out, looking frantic.

"Theo!" shouts Minho, voice pleading. Theo turns and runs faster.

Thomas watches the scene, feeling terrible. Although, Minho isn't Keeper of the Runners for nothing because he starts gradually gaining on Theo.

Thomas turns into the common room, to see Newt with his head in his hands.

"Hi, Tommy," says Newt dejectedly. "I'm absolutely shucked." Thomas masks his expressions and sits down next to him.

"What happened?" he says, forcing himself to sound concerned and not like he already knows.

"Minho-Theo-I" says Newt, then his voice cracks. "Let's go to the dorm." Newt reaches for his crutches and he's very efficient with them, which makes Thomas wonder how much practice he's had with them.

When they're in the dorm, Newt is sitting tensely on the bed, knuckles white.

"I-" gets out Newt and then he starts crying. Thomas is so not prepared this. "I messed up Minho and Theo."

"How?" says Thomas. He's stopped feeling so resentful now. He also genuinely wants to know how Newt views the whole situation.

"I was being stupid," sniffles Newt. "I basically let Minho kiss me, totally platonic, but Theo didn't see it that way." Thomas inches closer to Newt and smiles sadly. Then there's the million pound question.

"Why did you kiss Minho?" Thomas wants to know. Badly.

"I was seeing if I could get over someone," says Newt slowly. "It didn't work." Thomas feels annoyed. If Newt likes someone, how could that person not like him back? Couldn't they see that Newt is the shucking best person there is? The hatred Thomas feels for that person who hurt Newt is so strong it almost hurts. Maybe he's also a little jealous Newt likes someone. No he isn't. He's just feels like he should be protective of Newt, like Minho is.

Newt is near-cringing for being obvious. Although from Thomas' expression, he doesn't seem to suspect a thing. Great, thinks Newt dryly.

"Who are you trying to get over?" spits Thomas, sounding furious. "They're obviously not worth it." If he only knew. The irony is both humorous and painful.

"It's nothing, Tommy," Newt waves it off, trying to sound casual. "Nothing important."

"You're important to me!" snarls Thomas. "Don't say it's nothing." Newt's breath gets stuck in his throat. Why does there have to be so much blind hope?

"Look, Tommy," assures Newt calmly. "I'm fine."

"That's a load of klunk," says Thomas. Newt starts feeling irritated. Why should Thomas tell Newt how he feels?

"Maybe I don't want to say," he enunciates and all the calm he had spoken with earlier dissipates.

"Why?" asks Thomas, looking indignant. "I won't laugh or anything."

"I know you won't, Tommy," replies Newt, "Can we stop yapping about it now?"

"No," storms Thomas. "I know Minho knows, so why can't you tell me?"

Newt laughs humourlessly. "Maybe because I've known him three years longer?"

Thomas sits back. "Please, Newt," He pleads.

"Why the hell do you need to know?" snaps Newt, seeing red. "Just leave it."

"Fine," snaps Thomas and he stalks out the room. Like that, golden bubble Newt had previously been pops. Newt wants to say he hates Thomas.

It's partly true, at least.

*

Maybe it shouldn't surprise him, but it does and it hurts excruciatingly when Thomas tells him.

It was only a small thing after all.

Prep was deadly boring and uneventful but after a dinner with forced small talk, Newt feels really tired. Minho hadn't fared much better. Theo had ignored him completely, only occasionally making sarcastic comments. It wasn't hard to tell that they weren't doing well. Great. More rumours.

He much prefers the events of one week ago. He and Thomas had easy flowing conversation, light touches and in Starbucks.

The cheesy almost-kiss with poetry recital. Could it get any more romantic? Thinking about it made Newt's head hurt. Thomas had initiated it. Thomas had leaned in.

Newt is feeling so low that he talk for the rest of dinner and common room time. Thomas is also ignoring him now, any attempt at being civil dropped.

As Newt hobbles up the stairs, he wonders why everything had to go wrong, starting from Alby.

Thomas is already in the dorm and he's unfolding the crisp bed sheets that have so far lain untouched. Because Thomas had been sharing with Newt.

"I'm moving into the spare bed," states Thomas stiffly. "Permanently."

"Why?" stammers Newt.

"I thought it was about time," says Thomas icily as he throws down the bed sheets. "Now shuck off." It really stings.

He doesn't make a sound at night, but Newt cries himself to sleep. He's slipping too far back into his old ways. He's not going back there.

What he was in second form is not who he is now.

Being ever on the lookout on the Newtmas front, Stiles notices the rift between them, as he walks past them in the corridor with Scott.

"Hey guys!" he yells, "Oh man," Then Stiles and Scott start whispering furiously and walk away.

Newt is mystified. And scared. Slightly scared.

*

All three of them are miserable and tired. Homework and bloody coursework builds up as well as GCSEs draw nearer.

"You're being ridiculous," states Minho in German, one of lessons where Thomas sits on the other side of the classroom. Right now, Newt is thankful for that.

"How?" says Newt. It comes out a bit ruder than expected. "Shut up and translate this buggin' passage."

"Recycling helps protect the environment and how it works is very interesting," reels Minho swiftly, annoyingly word perfect. "Everyone should be more involved in helping the environment. Things like picking up litter, planting trees- "

"Shuck off, you stupid shank," groans Newt. Why is Minho so clever? Especially at languages. The shank is taking German and Spanish, along with goddamn Korean.

"Newt!" admonishes the German teacher, Frau Kendrick. "Be nice to Minho. How far have you gotten in translating?"

"Um-" blusters Newt frantically, "Nearly half," Frau Kendrick fixes him with a steely glare.

"Could you read this paragraph for me?" she says, "You should've written it in your book,"

Newt looks mournfully at his blank page and prays for a miracle.

The miracle never happens. He somehow ends up translating 'care' to 'destroy' and withers under Frau Kendrick's angry look.

"Lost in translation indeed," snickers Minho after Newt receives a five minute speech on wasting time.

"I will actually kill you," threatens Newt but Minho just laughs even harder.

Newt's eyes automatically wander across the room to Thomas and for a brief moment, they make eye contact. Immediately, Thomas looks away. Ouch.

*

After another awkward dinner, where Newt is flat-out ignored by Thomas again, they're making their way to the common room when-Stiles appears behind them, grinning in a way that makes Newt very afraid. He's also extremely confused.

"You guys should make up," says Stiles quirkily. "But you didn't so I decided to input my assistance."

Thomas gets grabbed by Scott, who is extraordinarily strong for a fourteen year old and Newt is on bloody crutches for god's sake! He tries to inauspiciously move away but his crutches are so loud that Stiles just looks at him and sighs.

"Backup," calls Stiles. Nothing happens. "I guess it's me then. Sorry, Newt."

Stiles takes Newt by the arm and Newt just sullenly resigns himself to whatever is going to happen.

"Yeah, Plan A is all good," says Stiles to Scott and that's when it dawns on Newt. But it's too late.

They're shoved none too gently into the caretaker's cupboard. Except the equipment has been tidied and rose petals lie scattered on the floor. The door closes and the click of the key is heard.

"Stiles!" hollers Thomas. "Let us out!"

"The key's in the lock," replies Stiles unhelpfully. "Just call me when you're all good." Stuck to the wall is a laminated piece of paper with Stiles' number on it.

Newt is shucked.

 


	7. In The Doghouse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The cupboard. A Gathering. A disappointing chapter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I AM SO SORRY TO LEAVE YOU ALL HANGING. 
> 
> Short story: I started watching anime and lost my Maze Runner passion and therefore I had little motivation to write. 
> 
> But I PROMISE to finish this story, no matter how long it takes!

Chapter 7

Newt turns frantically to look at Thomas, knowing full well he is doomed. Doomed to death by awkwardness. Thomas looks back at him, not saying a word. Really shucking awkward, that's what it is. Newt has nothing he can say, except garbling out his true feelings so he keeps his mouth shut as well.

The silence stretches to its breaking point.

"I'll call Minho," says Newt eventually, unable to bear it any longer. "Maybe he'll come help us."

"Yeah," says Thomas softly. It's the first time they've spoken to each other in two days. Which doesn't sound very long but Newt is used to spending fifty percent of his time with Thomas.

They both try and sit down at the same time and damn it, Newt's crutches get in the way and he trips over them.

"Bloody he-" curses Newt and flails forwards, waiting to hit the ground. A pair of strong arms catches his and Newt finds himself looking up into the depth of Thomas' eyes. Klunk.

Their faces are millimetres away but Newt is too frozen to move. Tommy is going to be the bloody end of me, he thinks, frustrated. With a mental sigh, Newt forces himself to put some distance in between them.

Fiddling in his blazer pocket for his phone, he can feel Thomas watching him. Newt's brain starts squealing until he sharply reminds himself that there's nothing else to look at.

"Minho?" says Newt, and then he puts the phone on speaker for god knows why. "You OK?"

"Yes," says Minho sarcastically. "My boyfriend broke up with me and everyone knows it was my fault. Life is shucking fabulous." Thomas shifts uncomfortably.

"Minho-dear lord," Newt sighs, "Thomas and I-"

"Mm-hmm," mumbles Minho. "Hang on a second." Scuffling noises ensue while Newt wonders what the holy hell is going on.

"So you and Thomas..." prompts Minho, the biting tone gone from his voice.

"We've been locked in a cupboard by Stiles and Scott," says Thomas.

The cackle of laughter that emits from the phone is so loud that a high screeching static comes out as well and Newt and Thomas both wince.

"Oh my shuck," snorts Minho, sounding thoroughly cheered up. "What do you want me to do?"

"Unlock the door?" says Newt. "Key's on the outside of the door. We're by the tapestries and in the caretaker's cupboard."

"It depends," says Minho smarmily and Newt wishes that Minho is here in person so Newt can strangle him with his bare hands. "Why did Stiles lock you in anyway?"

"He wants us to make up," says Newt sullenly. "He thinks we're fighting and sinking his so-called 'Newtmas' ship."

"I ain't coming, you deadheads," replies Minho crisply and Newt can just hear Minho smirking. "I agree with Stiles." Then the line goes dead.

Thomas groans. "I'm not that bad, am I?" teases Newt, unable to resist. The tension dissolves slightly in the petal-covered cupboard as Thomas laughs- oh god.

He laughed.

"Yeah, you are," says Thomas. "You're killing me." The conversation lapses into silence again as Newt wonders if Thomas really meant it.

As if Thomas had caught onto what Newt was thinking, his smile falters and he looks away from Newt precariously. This is probably going to take a while.

"Tommy?" tries Newt. "We really should talk. You're one of my best friends and I...don't like fighting you."

Thomas is still ignoring him, facing the other direction. Anger flares up in Newt as he remembers the pain of the past few days. He is sick of being ignored and receiving the cold shoulder treatment for no good reason.

"I am bloody sick of this klunk!" snaps Newt. "Why are you even mad at me? Because I wanted to keep something to myself?" Thomas wheels around. When Newt puts it like that, Thomas at least has the decency to look ashamed. Bloody brilliant.  
"I..." Thomas trails off, puzzled. "But why can't I know?" The defiance irks Newt a lot.

"Why should you?" he retorts peevishly.

"I..." says Thomas again. "OK, I admit it. I'm a shank, I was being stupid."

"Damn right," grumbles Newt, still annoyed.

"I just really wanted you to be able to trust me," comes Thomas' voice, slightly muted.

At this, Newt's heart melts and the anger dissolves. They are both a bunch of no-brainers.

"Tommy," he sighs heavily, wanting to phrase it right. "I would tell you but I don't think that you'd understand."

"Is it because it's a guy?" asks Thomas and he looks into Newt's eyes, his gaze unwavering. "I would never hate you for that. I can't."

"Tommy-" chokes out Newt.

"Our friendship is worth way more than that." Oh, the irony. Is this what the imaginary friend zone feels like?

At moments like this, Newt wishes he wasn't gay. Life would be so much simpler and less complicated.

"Let's just say we're both sorry for being bloody shucking idiots," says Newt and Thomas nods eagerly at him.

"Do you want to call Stiles?" asks Thomas, tone unfathomable. "Because I would pulverise that piece of klunk if I saw him again. And his extremely strong friend."

"I think we should wait here for a while. Do you have any homework?" Newt doesn't want to come off sounding like he's too excited for this. He is also getting slightly distracted by Thomas' sexily dishevelled hair.

"Finished most of it during Prep," replies Thomas, brushing the question off. "Make-up hug?"

Newt stared limply in shock for a little while. Obviously, Newt has no sense of personal space around Thomas, but Thomas is rarely the first to initiate the...touching. Sounds dirty.

Newt envelopes Thomas in a tight embrace, inhaling deeply as he does so. He's not going down the whole 'sexy smells' path. Thomas, to put it simply, smells like the closest thing to home. To Newt, home isn't always a place, but a feeling.

While all this rushes through Newt's head, maybe they've been hugging too long.

"Newt," says Thomas, voice hoarse. "We should let go now."

Fired up, Newt snuggles further into Thomas, turning the hug to cuddles. "I'm fine like this," he murmurs.

Thomas shivers but he gradually relaxes and leans into Newt. This reminds to Newt to broach one of Thomas' untouchable topics.

"What was your last school like?"

Thomas looks startled. "My old school? Why do you want to know?"

"I feel like I should know about you by now," replies Newt. "Teresa told me-"

"What did she tell you?" interrupts Thomas hurriedly, an edge of fear to his voice.

"Just that it was called Stonewall High," responds Newt, mystified. "Was it a good school?"

"It...wasn't a very nice place," Thomas says, weary defeat written all over his face. "There were a lot of bullies and this-this organisation that made Teresa and I...do things." Alarm races through Newt at the talk of organisations.

"Organisation? You mean a gang like the Grievers?" pries Newt, trying to get more information. "What did they do?"

"I was bullied," says Thomas bitterly. His expression is stony and he's holding Newt's hand, squeezing it tightly. "Every shucking day. They never stopped. That was why I left."

Horror and sympathy floods Newt's veins and he tilts his head upwards. "Why?"

"I..." Thomas struggles to get the words out and he clenches his fists. "It was because I liked...I was a freak."

"You're not a freak," whispers Newt. He wants to kill, destroy, and absolutely ruin whoever bullied Thomas. "You shouldn't be bullied for what you like. No one should."

"My only friend was Teresa," chokes Thomas, voice cracked. Newt realises that Thomas is crying and he hugs Thomas tighter. "And then they moved onto her. That was when I had had enough. They could beat me up and...and-" Thomas breaks off with a sob.

"Tommy," says Newt with some degree of urgency. "What did they do?"

"They could beat me up," states Thomas more firmly, "But they weren't allowed to touch Teresa." Newt likes Teresa, she's a great person, but he can't help the flare of jealousy he feels.

"Tommy," says Newt sadly. "You are the greatest shank I have ever met." What that means is Thomas is and will always be too good for Newt.

And klunk, it's happening again. It's happening again. Thomas' eyes widen and bloody hell - they're leaning in again. For the third shucking time. Newt is waiting for the cockblocker any moment.

Crash! There we go, seethes Newt. Thomas as usual, looks bewildered and confused.

"Are you guys in here?" pipes up Chuck, from the other side of the door. Newt wants to scream and he's utterly thrown by all the mixed signals from Thomas.

"Yes, Chuck," says Thomas. It might be Newt's imagination, but is there a note of irritation in his voice?

There's a scrabbling of metal on wood. "Klunk," says Chuck as the key presumably hits the floor.

In a minute or so, the door swings open. Thomas and Newt both wince from the harsh glare of light in their face.

"Thanks," grunts Newt, still monumentally pissed. Awkwardness permeates the atmosphere.

"Shall we go to the common room now?" asks Thomas, quirking his head at Newt. "The night bell has probably rung already. Chuck, you should run to your dorm." Chuck nods and true to his words, he runs like the wind, quickly disappearing behind a corner.

"I am going to kill Stiles," grumbles Newt darkly. "I am fixing his rota to make him a permanent Slopper-"

Thomas inclines his head. "Or we could do something to Stiles' and Scott's dorm." That sounds like an excellent plan.

Newt and Thomas almost wet themselves laughing when Stiles and Scott pull back their duvets to reveal several puppies that had klunked and pissed all over the bed.

The puppies were from Derek and Newt was way too intimidated by him to ask where they were from. And why Derek had puppies, of course.

*

The disco is coming up shortly, as is another Gathering. The rehearsals progress and the costumes are already starting to be made. Rat Man, however surly he is, is actually a fantastic director.

They also have more rehearsals, which means Newt has to see Thomas and Brenda exchange sickeningly sweet rhyming couplets.

And then Thomas went on a second date with Brenda last weekend in town. Newt spent his Saturday dragging bags of food waste to the compost site with Minho for stupid Slopper duties. Each week, two Gladers from each year had to be Sloppers and help take the waste out. It's only fun when it isn't you.

Thomas on other hand is wholly confused by the whole situation. On the first date, Brenda had basically told him she was going insane. He isn't really sure how to handle that.

When Thomas gets off the bus, gift in hand, Brenda is waiting at the stop. She smiles and adjusts her beret (of course she has a beret).

"I bought you chocolates, " Thomas had said and Brenda had smiled but didn't say anything.

"It's fine, Thomas," said Brenda, "I don't need gifts. Eat it yourself." It had no spiteful intent but carried some kind of backward jab.

Then Brenda had taken him to the Cover Market and they had great fun there. Thomas kissed her dutifully at the end, which turned into something rather heated. After slotting their lips together, Brenda started moving her hands. It was pleasant, Thomas supposed. He didn't like Newt, because Thomas has a girlfriend.

"You're so painfully obvious to me," Teresa says, the next time they meet. "It's absolutely ridiculous that you haven't done anything at all."

"What," Thomas says, feeling rather defensive. "I know I'm dating Brenda."

"What!" screeches Teresa, looking at him. "You're dating Brenda? Have you already established that with her? Because Brenda never said anything about it."

"We went on two dates," says Thomas after a while.

"Why are you so stupid?" screams Teresa and yes, Thomas is very scared right now. "Are you that oblivious to the fact that someone-" At that moment, Newt appears calmly and raises a sceptical brow.

Teresa shuts up immediately and Thomas feels a familiar twinge of irritation. By now he's realised that he absolutely cannot stand someone keeping secrets from him. It's one of his special traits. He feels like an absolute outsider if he isn't allowed to understand what it means.

Maybe Thomas is too persistent with his questions. That could be a reason why everyone hated him at Stonewall High. Or because...Thomas clenches his fists and looks back at Teresa.

"Shuck off," he says quietly and then he shouts it because it doesn't seem loud enough. "SHUCK OFF!"

Thomas stalks out the room, unfeeling and uncaring of their reactions. He runs to the race track and he keeps running. The running consumes his anger, his feet beating hard on the ground.

Newt's getting to him. Thomas is trying harder than ever to suppress it but...he'd almost kissed Newt in the cupboard. And how many times before that.

"Not gay," Thomas mutters to himself as he runs. "Not liking Newt. Not going to go back to the shucking old ways."

Why can't he control his emotions? They're his emotions, after all. "Why?" hollers Thomas at the empty field. “Why?"

He shouldn't be having those...feelings to anyone except Brenda. Thomas pictures Brenda's cunning brown eyes in his mind but it keeps transferring to a pair of sharp blue eyes, boring to him.

"Tommy!" shouts someone, it has to be Newt. With a gasp of shock, Thomas pitches forward just as he takes a huge step. In a flash, he crashes to the floor, bumping his chin on the rough ground.

Pain zips up his body and he can hear Newt's crutches thudding on the ground to him. Click, clack, click, clack. Fear grips Thomas and he's sprawled on the floor, rooted to the ground by terror.

What does that remind me of? Vague dissonant images tumble through his mind like fragmented photographs.

He's gripping something in the science lab of his old school, then- three shadow-lined figures towering above him, arms outstretched. Suddenly, there's the crack of glass and the sound of flesh hitting flesh.  
"What..." pants Thomas, exhausted and out of breath. "What was that?" He's full of questions and very scared.

"Tommy, are you OK?" says Newt worriedly, offering a hand. His chin stings but it's no big deal.

"Fine," grunts Thomas and he forces himself up, ignoring Newt's proffered hand. "Nothing."

"You did dash your arse out here though," points out Newt, "So I don't believe for a second that everything is peachy."

Thomas doesn't reply and starts walking back to school, mind reeling from the scenes in his head. What are they?

"The Gathering is tomorrow evening," says Newt eventually, breaking the silence. It's like a foreshadowing of doom. "Don't be late."

Then he walks away, taking a small part of Thomas with him.  
*

The next morning, everything is tense. Newt's been to see Alby at the weekend and he's still unconscious, screaming every now and again. Alby is someone he's almost close to as Minho. It may not look like it because they don't always hang out but Newt can always feel a sense of mutual understanding between.

This is the first Gathering Newt has held as the head boy, by himself. It doesn't feel right and that's making Newt nervous.

Normally, Newt has no problem addressing the Gladers but...this is the first time.

After dinner, Newt arrives at the Homestead early. He hobbles up the stairs with his crutches and slowly goes to the speaking stand.

The room is so vast and empty, full of hard, cold seats. The atmosphere is similar to how Newt is feeling now. When Minho gets hurt, he isolates himself and buries himself in work. He still insults people with his infamous mouth but there's always more malice to it than necessary.

Collapsing onto the Keeper's bench, Newt heaves a sigh. Along with being a stressful year, problems kept appearing left and right.

Again, Newt thinks back to the mysterious blue syringes from the Box. The draw they had :en in was labelled 'Grievers'. Could it cure Alby?

Inevitable addiction to the Sting would follow after Alby wakes up and Newt is not ready to let that happen. But did the syringes contain a healing serum or the Sting?

Gladers start filing into the room, noisy at first but then silenced at the serious look on Newt's face. Across the room, Minho gives Newt an encouraging smile. Newt doesn't have the heart to return it and simply shrugs, still waiting.

Finally, the last shank arrives in the room, followed by Jorge, who has a solemn expression on his face.

"Let's begin," announces Jorge and Newt walks to the microphone, heart thumping wildly. It's not like him to be scared.

"In place of our head boy, who is sick, I declare this Gathering has begun," says Newt, "Last week in town, Alby was Stung by a Griever and our Greenie Tommy ran into the Maze."

Thomas knows the 'Greenie' is a poke for breaking the rules of the Glade and he flushes, feeling countless eyes on him.

"He's just a rule breaker now," says Gally scathingly, out of the blue. Whispers flare out and angrily, Newt shushes everyone.

"Silence!" he snaps, glaring at Gally. Gally might be trying to be nice, but he wasn't very good at it. "Basic manners, guys."

Gally shrugs and sits back, scowling slightly. Newt decides to put his old attitude down to all the Alby business, seeing as...Newt doesn't want to go there.

Newt gives Gally a warning glare as Gally opens his mouth again. "We are holding this Gathering because we need to decide how we will deal with these issues."

Gally leans forward, as if he's going to say something again. "It's not your chance to speak right now, Gally," admonishes Newt, getting extremely peeved now. "OK, we'll begin with Zart."

Thomas watches Zart rise and walk to the podium. He's nervous and terrified of what the Keepers think.

"Well," says Zart, so quietly that it’s hard to here even with microphone. "Thomas broke one of our most important rules. There has to be at least some sort of consequence. We can't let students, especially the Lower School think they can do the same." Murmurs erupt across the room, some people nodding their heads in agreement.

Thomas' heart sinks. He's truly shucked.

"...but Thomas helped Minho save Alby," continues Zart. Thomas has to strain his voice to even hear him. "So I think he should only have a minor punishment." Relief floods through Thomas' veins. Maybe everyone isn't against him, after all.

"Minho probably did it all by himself," snorts Gally. "None of us were there, how do we even know Thomas did anything?"

"Gally! This is your last warning and I do have the authority to make you leave if you don't behave properly," Newt nearly shouts. He sneaks a glance at Minho, relieved the shank hadn't opened his big mouth.

"Next, can we have Frypan?" says Newt. "And no interruptions, please." This may or may not be directed at Gally.

"Thomas saved Alby, didn't he?" proclaims Frypan, "He survived the Maze. I don't see why a Gathering is necessary for this." Newt wants to bang his head repeatedly on the wall. Of course a Gathering was necessary! How else would this be discussed?

"So what do you propose?" says Newt, exasperation evident in his voice.

"I think we should just make Thomas a Runner and get it done with," shrugs Frypan nonchalantly.

Thomas looks up, shock etched on his face. That had definitely been something he wasn't expecting. A Runner...could he really be a Runner?

"That's klunk!" someone shouts from the growing chatter. Immediately, Jorge blinks, eyes beady like hawk and he swoops down on a Glader.

"Detention for use of foul language and generally being a rude little shank," snarls Jorge. The Glader in question sputters as Jorge contradicts himself.

"But-" Jorge raises an eyebrow.

"You want two?" Newt starts talking again, but no one in the crowd is listening at all. He'll have to use the rather nasty trick.

Fiddling with the microphone, Newt makes a horrible high-pitched screech erupt out the speakers, deafening everyone. Newt winces along with them.

"Let's continue then," announces Newt, grinning uncontrollably. "And I'll jot that idea down and Winston, please,"

"Thomas should be punished," says Winston at once. "I disagree with Frypan. It's an important rule you never break. He should spend a week in the Slammer, or something similar...like send him to Coventry."

Thomas doesn't understand the fancy boarding school slang. But Winston had made his point clear.

"So Thomas should be put in the solitary living halls then, " Newt swears to every loving god that exists. Mainly as he'd probably lose it if he couldn't hug Thomas for a week in bed (After Stiles' intervention, Thomas had left the spare bed empty, claiming it was uncomfortable). At that time, the bloody sun had been shining out of Newt's arse.

Sending Thomas to Coventry, might in fact be crueller than a week in the Slammer. No one in the year could speak to Thomas during Coventry. He would be ignored and...Newt is certain any self-confidence Thomas has would take a blow.

His mind drifts back to his 'Isaac' days. Newt had been sent back Coventry a few times and it was shucking torture. He couldn't even talk to Minho.

"OK," Newt says evenly, "Why?"

"Gally's been saying-" Newt raises an eyebrow at this. "-ever since Thomas arrived, he's been making a big impact."

A bloody big impact on Newt as well. But no one needs to know that. "And?"

"He needs to know that being with and playing around with the Runners doesn't make him one." At this one, Thomas tries his shucking best not to burst out. Nothing sounds more delightful than clocking Winston one.

"Point noted," says Newt, effectively cutting Winston off. "Next...Clint."

Clint pretty much says the same thing as Zart. Then it's Gally's turn and everyone is holding their breath.

"I think Thomas is trouble," snarls Gally, eyebrows menacingly angled at Thomas. "He thinks he's better than all of us and ever since Thomas came, things started going funny."

Newt opens his mouth, about to tell Gally to shuck himself, than realises what he was about to do.

"Ben came back and attacks Thomas and is addicted to the Sting. Alby gets Stung. Thomas navigates the Maze like it's nothing. Don't you find that a bit suspicious?"

"What are you implying, Gally?" All this klunk is tiring Newt out. He wants Alby to sort this out. Newt is getting way out of his depth here and Alby...manages to control his temper better.

"Thomas isn't meant to be here! He's messing up everything!" shouts Gally. "I'm certain that he's related to the Grievers! I saw him during the Changing, you know!"

"OK," concludes Newt, a bit more forcefully than he would've liked. "Minho, come up here."

Scowling like a total shank, Gally walks back to the Keepers' bench.

"Well..." starts Minho, "I nominate this shank to replace me as Keeper of the Runners."

Uproar explodes in the room as various people start protesting, shouting and cheering. Again, Newt bangs the microphone and everyone shuts the shuck up.

"Why would you say that?" Newt can see Minho's smirking, absolutely delighted with all the commotion he's caused.

"When we were in the Maze, Greenie was even calmer than I was. Kept his cool and everything. He'd be a much better Runner than me."

Thomas gapes at Minho in shock. Never in a million years had he expected something like that to come out of Minho's mouth. But then again, it's Minho.

He was number one at surprising people. And so was Gally, as Gally stands up angrily and stalks to Minho.

"If you make him a Runner, I will snap your shuck neck," snarls Gally. "He shouldn't be here!"

Crash. Minho had shoved Gally hard. Gally slowly gets up, rage in his eyes. "I'll get you for this, Minho."

Fuming, Gally turns to the door and walks out, slamming it hard.

Newt waits for an intervention from Jorge, but he seems to have disappeared.

"Let's vote, then," says Newt, ignoring Gally's melodramatic departure. "And suggesting Thomas replace you, that was a ridiculous idea."

"I thought all the Keepers had to be present unless they're ill," says Zart, looking worried.

Newt allows himself a smile. "I'd say Gally's feeling a bit ill today."

"So, I propose one day in the Slammer for Thomas but he can start his Runner training straight after. We'll make him a Runner."

Happiness and relief floods through Thomas as nearly all the Keepers vote for Newt's proposal.

He's finally going to be a Runner.

 


	8. Thomas Dares to Hope

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I have no clue because it's nearly been a goddamn fucking year since I've updated. (Sorry)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please kill me. I kinda lost interest in TMR although I will FINISH this fic no matter what it takes. Very sorry. So sorry. Much apologies. And it's not a long chapter either, as I realised long chapters stress me out too much. (-_-)~

Chapter 8

Straight after the Gathering, Minho comes round and traps Newt in an enormous hug. Thomas stands awkwardly to the side, until Newt grabs him as well, creating a messy embrace of arms and legs.

"Unf, Newt," says the muffled voice of Thomas, "You can let go now."

Smiling widely, Newt ruffles his hair and reluctatly lets go. A pressing issue repeatedly bounces in his mind and Newt will do something about it.

Alby. The Serum.

During the Gathering, Newt had been wondering whether to announce it, but decided against it, seeing as the storeroom it was found in was obviously out of bounds.

They return to the common room, tension from the Gathering wearing off. Still, Newt is far from placated.

"Minho," he says, "Get over here, you bloody shank." Minho's about to open his mouth, no doubt to retaliate with some snarky remark, but Newt yanks him over. His patience is gone.

"I might have a way to cure Alby-" Before Newt finishes, Minho grabs him by the shoulders and starts shaking him roughly.

"Why the shuck didn't you say it in the Gathering, you idiot?" hisses Minho, "Instead of interrogating everyone?" Although Minho didn't intentionally try to hurt Newt, it stings all the same.

"Well I'm sorry for not being as good as Alby," he spits sullenly, refusing to look at Minho.

"Newt," pleads Minho, "That's not what I meant. It's just Alby being Stung and all, has me crankier than Gally."

Newt realises how 'Isaac' he's being right now. He'd been so caught up in everything happening and bloody Thomas that he had forgotten his friends were suffering just as much as he was.

"Sorry," apologises Newt and the tight grip Minho had on his shoulders loosens slightly. "I was being an arse."

From the other side of the room, Thomas peers curiously at them and abruptly turns around when he sees how close they're standing.

"So how do we help Alby?" says Minho quickly.

"Do you remember when we sneaked into the Box in first form?" replies Newt quietly.

"Yeah, what about it?" says Minho impatiently.

"There were boxes of syringes in there," explains Newt, "And labeled 'Grievers', but at the time we didn't know what they were. I think that they could help Alby or at least let us find out more about damn Grievers."

Minho stares at Newt incredulously. "You shuckface, what are we waiting for? Let's go now!" Always rash and loudmouthed when emotional, that's Minho.

"We can't just sneak into the Box again," snaps Newt, rolling his eyes. "It has fifty million locks and cameras and ID klunk there for a good reason!"

"We can't plan it all out!" snaps back Minho frantically. "We already have hardly any time left."

"It doesn't do any good not to tell anyone. We need to tell the other Keepers. Order in the Glade, remember?" Minho shuts up at this and then he nods affirmatively.

"KEEPERS! GET YOUR UGLY SHUCK FACES OVER HERE!" hollers Minho and the whole common room looks at him. Thomas catches Newt's eye and gives him a questioning look.

Newt grins apologetically because Thomas absolutely cannot find out. He'd decided this because Thomas would insist on going no matter what. And because Newt kind of had a soft spot for him, he'd let Thomas go, to the chagrin of everyone else.

With quite a few noisy groans, the Keepers, annoyed at being disturbed, walk over to Minho.

"What is it?" moans Frypan immediately.

"A possible cure for Alby," replies Newt calmly.  
Granted, this has a silencing effect on all the Keepers. Then Gally opens his mouth.

"What? What is it?" he frantically splutters, talking so fast that he's practically incomprehensible.

"Gally, calm the shuck down," snaps Minho unsympathetically, clearly still hung up about the Gathering.

"But we need to sneak into the Box to retrieve it, and even then we're not sure if it'll work," says Newt and people's faces fall.

"Why can't we just ask Jorge?" Zart says, voice only slightly above a whisper.

"He'll never let us, that's why!" Gally rounds on poor Zart, who looks like he'll klunk his pants.

"We'll discuss this at the official meeting," shouts Newt over the hubbub and aware of all the curious glances directed at them. "You are not to tell anyone."

Surprisingly, the Keepers don't tell anyone. Minho doesn't even breathe a word to any of his beloved Runners so Newt and Minho do some research of their own, much to Thomas' disappointment.

"Where are you guys going?" he asks them and gets no proper reply. It's always something like 'Ask no questions, we'll tell no lies, shank' or 'Just Keeper business'.

It brings up Thomas' many insecurities and after some thought, he follows them.

It's a klunk thing to do, but Thomas feels like he deserves to know. It'd been made clear that he wasn't an outsider - he was going to be a goddamn Runner. Part of was also wondering if they were...doing what they did last time again.

I-i-it's not like he's jealous or anything! Thomas pushes that thought aside. He is kind-of dating Brenda. Who is smart, witty and an excellent actress. Newt is just one of his best friends.

Then guilt hits Thomas. Maybe he should trust them enough to not have to sneak around following them. Thoroughly regretting his decision, Thomas still follows them.

Newt and Minho are talking softly so Thomas can't hear and every now and again, their eyes dart around and Thomas has to flatten himself against the wall more than once.

He has no clue where he is. Newt and Minho start descending down a flight of stairs, the air growing darker around them as they do so. Thomas regrets his rash decision but his curiousity overtakes him and he finds himsef still following them.

"How do we get in?" Minho asks and then he grunts in pain.

"Shut up, you bloody klunkhead!" Newt snaps in a whisper. Upon hearing Newt's voice, Thomas' legs suddenly cease to function and because of his jelly legs, he trips.

With a horrendously loud crash that has Thomas wincing, he tumbles down the last flight of stairs and lands right at Newt's feet.

Shucking amazing. Great. Pain lances through his whole body and Thomas groans, because it shucking hurts.

Slowly, with his heart pounding wildly, Thomas looks up and awaits his iminent death. Newt and Minho are both staring at him silently.

"C-could you, um...say something?" asks Thomas, increasingly worried about what was going to happen next.

"What the shuck are you-" Minho begins hollering before a sharp and effective jab in the ribs from Newt shuts him up.

"But seriously Tommy, what the shuck are you doing here?" asks Newt sternly.

"B-because no one would tell me what all those secret Keeper meetings were about!"

"Shank!" whisper-screams Minho furiously. "All the other idiots in the Glade just kept their traps shut and let the Keepers do what they do? Why are you any different?"

Thomas realises with a sinking feeling that Minho is absolutely right and he's starting to feel like the worst person in the world. They had no obligation to tell him at all because Thomas is a shucking Greenie, for crying out loud.

He looks frantically from Minho, who is spluttering with rage to Newt, who is wearing a calm look of disappointment. Thomas is such a bag of klunk. A lengthy, uncomfortable silence ensues as Thomas stares at the floor.

"I think Tommy's realised his mistake," says Newt after a while. "And Minho, slim it."

"Yeah, the shank's learned his lesson," agrees Minho, "Now let's do something, instead of waiting around doing klunk." Thomas hovers uncertainly, unsure of who Minho is talking to.

"But how are going to get in?" asks Thomas. Newt smiles smugly.

"Minho isn't all sass and sarcasm you know," says Newt, with that ever so irritating smile. "People tend to forget Runners are the highest quality combination of brains and brawn, so to put it bluntly, Minho is a genius." And he is, because while Newt was talking, he had disabled three CCTV cameras and busted open the door, which had a startling amount of security on it. Thomas nearly chokes on his tongue. What the shuck is Minho?

There is thrilling sense of anticipation as door opens and Thomas expects to see some kind of high-tech dangerous-looking facility but instead some dusty brooms fall to the floor. And then as his eyes adjust to the dark, Thomas sees the...buckets, bleach and vacuum cleaner.

"Are we in the cleaning cupboard or something?" hisses Thomas, already back to his normal self. Newt chuckles and Thomas bites back a smile frantically.

"To Greenies like you it may be," he explains, still wearing that endearing angelic smile that makes Thomas want to rip out his eyeballs. "But for other Gladers, this is the Box. All the school supplies are in here, as well as some old secrets."

Thomas only understood about half of what Newt was saying because that shucking smile was doing things to his stomach.

"Oh...OK," he replies absentmindedly, still feeling pleasantly nauseated. "So what're you guys looking for anyway?"

Thomas watches Newt shift uneasily and glance cautiously at Minho.

"W-we might find something to cure Alby..." Whatever Thomas was expecting, it wasn't something like that.

Newt and Minho really go far for their friends. Would...would they do the same for him, if Thomas was Stung?

Before he can answer that question, there is an ominous creak and a small beam of light seeps into the room, indicating another person.

"Shuck!" hisses Minho and they freeze in the darkness, praying desperately for a miracle. The man entering the room is tall and bold, face framed by steel-rimmed glasses - Rat Man.

Thomas is suddenly extremely aware that if Rat Man catches them, they are dead meat. He attempts to even out his increasingly erratic breathing and glances towards Minho and Newt. They are both stock still, although it is clear they are thinking about how they can solve this ridiculous situation. Shuck that. They need to focus on staying goddamn  _alive._

Another person's presence emerges and Minho, Newt and Thomas all inhale. It's that Aida (Ava?) Paige person from the play rehearsals, the one with thin lips and a permanent disapproving glare etched upon her face. She knows Rat Man? Now that Thomas thinks of it, they were pretty buddy-buddy during the auditions.

By the creeped-out look on Minho's ugly face, he has already figured out how they are connected because he is an amazing nerd.

"They must both be W.C.K.D inspectors," he mouthes slowly and Newt nods in confirmation, as he is also very intelligent. Thomas wonders why this makes him very happy.

"-how has the Sting been working?" demands Ava, crisp American accent echoing off the walls of the dingy cellar. 

"From the effect it has, it has been proved to be a powerful weapon. Although certain people have been able to resist the effects of the drug on their bodies. This school, out of all the ones across the country, appears to have the highest 'immunity' rate." Thomas is aghast. Not only being aware of the Sting, but also  _experimenting_ with it? Are they really school inspectors? Teachers?

Vivid, horrifying images of Ben screaming, crying and those bulging green veins flash through Thomas' mind and he shakes his head firmly. Tell me that this isn't happening right now. 

"-have been working on a cure. Test batch #63 has proven to work the best, although the success rates are not high as I wanted." continues Rat Man, luckily still unaware of the three Gladers.

A cure, thinks Thomas, hardly daring to believe it. They continue to listen to Rat Man's scientific drivel and it becomes clear to all three of them that they've somehow, somehow out of all chances, struck gold.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you like it! I'm going to try and update as much as possible but no promises!
> 
> besthonestliar x
> 
> Update: Slowly killing myself for not updating for ten months...I don't know if I can actually finish this...I will try my best!


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